AT   LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 
u.  c. 


—^- 


Domnei 


BOOKS  by  MR.  CABELL 

Biography: 

BEYOND  LIFE 
FIGURES  OF  EARTH 

DOMNEI 

CHIVALRY 

JURGEN 

THE  LINE  OF  LOVE 

GALLANTRY 

THE  CERTAIN  HOUR 

THE  CORDS  OF  VANITY 

FROM  THE  HIDDEN  WAY 

THE  RIVET  IN  GRANDFATHER'S  NECK 

THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

THE  CREAM  OF  THE  JEST 

Scholia: 

THE  JUDGING  OF  JURGEN 

TABOO 

JOSEPH  HERGESHEIMER 

THE  JEWEL  MERCHANTS 

THE  LINEAGE  OF  LICHFIELD 


^Oomnei 


A  Comedy  of  Woman-Worship 


By 
JAMES  BRANCH  CABELL 


"En  cor  gentil  domnei  per  mort  no  passa." 


NEW  YORK 

ROBERT  M.  McBRIDE  &  CO. 
1921 


Copyright,      1913,      by 
FREDERICK     A.      STOKES     Co. 


Revised  Edition,  Copyright,  1920, 
By  JAMES  BRANCH  CABELL 


Second  Printing 
September,  1921 


Printed       in       the 
United     States     of     America 


Published,       1920 


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311945 


"The  complication  of  opinions  and  ideas,  of 
affections  and  habits,  which  prompted  the  cheva- 
lier to  devote  himself  to  the  service  of  a  lady, 
and  by  which  he  strove  to  prove  to  her  his  love, 
and  to  merit  hers  in  return,  was  expressed,  in 
the  language  of  the  Troubadours,  by  a  single 
word,  by  the  word  domnei,  a  derivation  of  domna, 
which  may  be  regarded  as  an  alteration  of  the 
Latin  domino,  lady,  mistress." 

— C.  C.  FAURIEL, 
History  of  Provencal  Poetry. 


Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

A  PREFACE    .     .     .     ,:    >:    .    >:    >;  I 

CRITICAL  COMMENT n 

THE  ARGUMENT      ......  15 

PART  ONE— PERION 

I    How  PERION  WAS  UNMASKED    .      .  19 

II      HOW  THE  VlCOMTE  WAS  VERY  GAY  .  26 

III  How  MELICENT  WOOED     ....  29 

IV  How  THE  BISHOP  AIDED  PERION     .  39 
V    How  MELICENT  WEDDED  ....  46 

PART  TWO— MELICENT 

VI    How  MELICENT  SOUGHT  OVERSEA    .  53 

VII    How  PERION  WAS  FREED  ....  57 

yill    How  DEMETRIOS  WAS  AMUSED  .     .  64 

IX    How  TIME  SPED  IN  HEATHENRY     .  69 

X    How  DEMETRIOS  WOOED  ....  75 

PART  THREE— DEMETRIOS 

XI    How  TIME  SPED  WITH  PERION  .     .  83 

XII    How  DEMETRIOS  WAS  TAKEN    .     .  87 

XIII    How  THEY  PRAISED  MELICENT  .     .  90 
vii 


viii 

CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

PAGE 

XIV 

How  PERION  BRAVED  THEODORET     . 

95 

XV 

How  PERION  FOUGHT  

104 

XVI 

How  DEMETRIOS  MEDITATED 

in 

XVII 

How  A  MINSTREL  CAME  .... 

115 

XVIII 

How  THEY  CRIED  QUITS  .     .     .     . 

123 

XIX 

How  FLAMBERGE  WAS  LOST  .     .     . 

127 

XX 

How  PERION  GOT  AID      .... 

133 

PART  FOUR—  AHASUERUS 

XXI 

How  DEMETRIOS  HELD  His  CHATTEL 

141 

XXII 

How  MISERY  HELD  NACUMERA  . 

147 

XXIII 

How  DEMETRIOS  CRIED  FAREWELL  . 

153 

XXIV 

How  ORESTES  RULED  

162 

XXV 

How  WOMEN  TALKED  TOGETHER     . 

166 

XXVI 

How  MEN  ORDERED  MATTERS     . 

172 

XXVII 

How  AHASUERUS  WAS  CANDID  .     . 

176 

XXVIII 

How  PERION  SAW  MELICENT     .     . 

180 

XXIX 

How  A  BARGAIN  WAS  CRIED 

186 

XXX 

How  MELICENT  CONQUERED  .     .     . 

192 

2Qf 

BIBLIOGRAPHY    .    ...    ;.|    w  'K    ;.    . 

215 

A  PREFACE 

BY 

JOSEPH  HERGESHEIMER 


A  Preface 


IT  would  be  absorbing  to  discover  the  present 
feminine  attitude  toward  the  profoundest  com- 
pliment ever  paid  women  by  the  heart  and  mind 
of  men  in  league — the  worshipping  devotion  con- 
ceived by  Plato  and  elevated  to  a  living  faith  in  me- 
diaeval France.  Through  that  renaissance  of  a  subli- 
mated passion  domnei  was  regarded  as  a  throne  of 
alabaster  by  the  chosen  figures  of  its  service:  Meli- 
cent,  at  Bellegarde,  waiting  for  her  marriage  with 
King  Theodoret,  held  close  an  image  of  Perion  made 
of  substance  that  time  was  powerless  to  destroy ;  and 
which,  in  a  life  of  singular  violence,  where  blood 
hung  scarlet  before  men's  eyes  like  a  tapestry, 
burned  in  a  silver  flame  untroubled  by  the  fate  of 
her  body.  It  was,  to  her,  a  magic  that  kept  her 
inviolable,  perpetually,  in  spite  of  marauding  fingers, 
a  rose  in  the  blanched  perfection  of  its  early  flow- 
ering. 

The  clearest  possible  case  for  that  religion  was 
3 


4  DOMNEI 

that  it  transmuted  the  individual  subject  of  its  adora- 
tion into  the  deathless  splendor  of  a  Madonna  unique 
and  yet  divisible  in  a  mirage  of  earthly  loveliness. 
It  was  heaven  come  to  Aquitaine,  to  the  Courts  of 
Love,  in  shapes  of  vivid  fragrant  beauty,  with  delec- 
table hair  lying  gold  on  white  samite  worked  in 
borders  of  blue  petals.  It  chose  not  abstractions  for 
its  faith,  but  the  most  desirable  of  all  actual — yes, 
worldly — incentives :  the  sister,  it  might  be,  of  Count 
Emmerick  of  Poictesme.  And,  approaching  beati- 
tude not  so  much  through  a  symbol  of  agony  as  by 
the  fragile  grace  of  a  woman,  raising  Melicent  to 
the  stars,  it  fused,  more  completely  than  in  any 
other  aspiration,  the  spirit  and  the  flesh. 

However,  in  its  contact,  its  lovers'  delight,  it  was 
no  more  than  a  slow  clasping  and  unclasping  of  the 
hands;  the  spirit  and  flesh,  merged,  became  spiritual; 
the  height  of  stars  was  not  a  figment.  .  .  .  Here, 
since  the  conception  of  domnei  has  so  utterly  van- 
ished, the  break  between  the  ages  impassable,  the 
sympathy  born  of  understanding  is  interrupted. 
Hardly  a  woman,  to-day,  would  value  a  sigh  the 
passion  which  turned  a  man  steadfastly  away  that 
he  might  be  with  her  forever  beyond  the  parched 
forest  of  death.  Now  such  emotion  is  held  strictly 
to  the  gains,  the  accountability,  of  life's  immediate 


A  PREFACE 


span;  women  have  left  their  cloudy  magnificence 
for  a  footing  on  earth ;  but — at  least  in  warm  grace- 
ful youth — their  dreams  are  still  of  a  Perion  de  la 
Foret.  These,  clear-eyed,  they  disavow;  yet  their 
secret  desire,  the  most  Elysian  of  all  hopes,  to  burn 
at  once  with  the  body  and  the  soul,  mocks  what  they 
find. 

That  vision,  dominating  Mr.  Cabell's  pages,  the 
record  of  his  revealed  idealism,  brings  specially  to 
Domnei  a  beauty  finely  escaping  the  dusty  confusion 
of  any  present.  It  is  a  book  laid  in  a  purity,  a 
serenity,  of  space  above  the  vapors,  the  bigotry  and 
engendered  spite,  of  dogma  and  creed.  True  to 
yesterday,  it  will  be  faithful  of  to-morrow;  for,  in 
the  evolution  of  humanity,  not  necessarily  the  turn 
of  a  wheel  upward,  certain  qualities  have  remained 
at  the  center,  undisturbed.  And,  of  these,  none  is 
more  fixed  than  an  abstract  love. 

Different  in  men  than  in  women,  it  is,  for  the 
former,  an  instinct,  a  need,  to  serve  rather  than  be 
served :  their  desire  is  for  a  shining  image  superior, 
at  best,  to  both  lust  and  maternity.  This  conscious- 
ness, grown  so  dim  that  it  is  scarcely  perceptible, 
yet  still  alive,  is  not  extinguished  with  youth,  but 
lingers  hopeless  of  satisfaction  through  the  incon- 
gruous years  of  middle  age.  There  is  never  a  man, 


6  DOMNEI 

gifted  to  any  degree  with  imagination,  but  eternally 
searches  for  an  ultimate  loveliness  not  disappearing 
in  the  circle  of  his  embrace — the  instinctively  Pla- 
tonic gesture  toward  the  only  immortality  conceiv- 
able in  terms  of  ecstasy. 

A  truth,  now,  in  very  low  esteem!  With  the 
solidification  of  society,  of  property,  the  bond  of 
family  has  been  tremendously  exalted,  the  mere  fact 
of  parenthood  declared  the  last  sanctity.  Together 
with  this,  naturally,  the  persistent  errantry  of  men, 
so  vulgarly  misunderstood,  has  become  only  a  repre- 
hensible paradox.  The  entire  shelf  of  James  Branch 
Cabell's  books,  dedicated  to  an  unquenchable  mascu- 
line idealism,  has,  as  well,  a  paradoxical  place  in  an 
age  of  material  sentimentality.  Compared  with  the 
novels  of  the  moment,  Domnei  is  an  isolated,  a  he- 
roic fragment  of  a  vastly  deeper  and  higher  struc- 
ture. And,  of  its  many  aspects,  it  is  not  impossible 
that  the  highest,  rising  over  even  its  heavenly  vision, 
is  the  rare,  the  simple,  fortitude  of  its  statement. 

Whatever  dissent  the  philosophy  of  Perion  and 
Melicent  may  breed,  no  one  can  fail  to  admire  the 
steady  courage  with  which  it  is  upheld.  Aside  from 
its  special  preoccupation,  such  independence  in  the 
face  of  ponderable  threat,  such  accepted  isolation, 
has  a  rare  stability  in  a  world  treacherous  with 


A  PREFACE 


mental  quicksands  and  evasions.  This  is  a  valor 
not  drawn  from  insensibility,  but  from  the  sharpest 
possible  recognition  of  all  the  evil  and  Cyclopean 
forces  in  existence,  and  a  deliberate  engagement  of 
them  on  their  own  ground.  Nothing  more,  in  that 
direction,  can  be  asked  of  Mr.  Cabell,  of  anyone. 
While  about  the  story  itself,  the  soul  of  Melicent, 
the  form  and  incidental  writing,  it  is  no  longer  nec- 
essary to  speak. 

The  pages  have  the  rich  sparkle  of  a  past  like 
stained  glass  called  to  life :  the  Confraternity  of  St. 
Medard  presenting  their  masque  of  Hercules;  the 
claret  colored  walls  adorned  with  gold  cinquefoils 
of  Demetrios'  court;  his  pavilion  with  porticoes  of 
Andalusian  copper;  Theodoret's  capital,  Megaris, 
ruddy  with  bonfires;  the  free  port  of  Narenta  with 
its  sails  spread  for  the  land  of  pagans;  the  lichen- 
incrusted  glade  in  the  Forest  of  Columbiers;  gar- 
dens with  the  walks  sprinkled  with  crocus  and  ver- 
milion and  powdered  mica  ...  all  are  at  once  real 
and  bright  with  unreality,  rayed  with  the  splendor 
of  an  antiquity  built  from  webs  and  films  of  imag- 
ined wonder.  The  past  is,  at  its  moment,  the  pres- 
ent, and  that  lost  is  valueless.  Distilled  by  time, 
only  an  imperishable  romantic  conception  remains; 
a  vision,  where  it  is  significant,  animated  by  the 


8  DOMNEI 

feelings,  the  men  and  women,  which  only,  at  heart, 
are  changeless. 

They,  the  surcharged  figures  of  Domnei,  move 
vividly  through  their  stone  galleries  and  closes,  in 
procession,  and — a  far  more  difficult  accomplish- 
ment— alone.  The  lute  of  the  Bishop  of  Montors, 
playing  as  he  rides  in  scarlet,  sounds  its  Provencal 
refrain ;  the  old  man  Theodoret,  a  king,  sits  shabbily 
between  a  prie-dieu  and  the  tarnished  hangings  of 
his  bed;  Melusine,  with  the  pale  frosty  hair  of  a 
child,  spins  the  melancholy  of  departed  passion; 
Ahasuerus  the  Jew  buys  Melicent  for  a  hundred 
and  two  minae  and  enters  her  room  past  midnight 
for  his  act  of  abnegation.  And  at  the  end,  looking, 
perhaps,  for  a  mortal  woman,  Perion  finds,  in  a 
flesh  not  unscarred  by  years,  the  rose  beyond  de- 
struction, the  high  silver  flame  of  immortal  happi- 
ness. 

So  much,  then,  everything  in  the  inner  question- 
ing of  beings  condemned  to  a  glimpse  of  remote 
perfection,  as  though  the  sky  had  opened  on  a  city 
of  pure  bliss,  transpires  in  Domnei;  while  the  fact 
that  it  is  laid  in  Poictesme  sharpens  the  thrust 
of  its  illusion.  It  is  by  that  much  the  easier  of 
entry;  it  borders — rather  than  on  the  clamor  of 
mills — on  the  reaches  men  explore,  leaving  weari- 


A  PREFACE 


ness  and  dejection  for  fancy — a  geography  for 
lonely  sensibilities  betrayed  by  chance  into  the  blind 
traps,  the  issueless  barrens,  of  existence. 

JOSEPH  HERGESHEIMER. 


CRITICAL  COMMENT 

And  Norman  NICOLAS  at  hearte  meant 
(Par die!)  some  subtle  occupation 
In  making  of  his  Tale  of  Melicent, 
That  stubbornly  desired  Perion. 
What  perils  for  to  rollen  up  and  down, 
So  long  process,  so  many  a  sly  cautel, 
For  to  obtain  a  silly  damosel! 

— THOMAS  UPCLIFFE. 


«' 

Nicolas  de  Caen,  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  the 
early  French  writers  of  romance,  was  born  at  Caen  in 
Normandy  early  in  the  15th  century,  and  was  living 
in  1470.  Little  is  known  of  his  life,  apart  from  the 
fact  that  a  portion  of  his  youth  was  spent  in  England, 
where  he  was  connected  in  some  minor  capacity  with 
the  household  of  the  Queen  Dowager,  Joan  of  Navarre. 
In  later  life,  from  the  fact  that  two  of  his  works  are 
dedicated  to  Isabella  of  Portugal,  third  wife  to  Philip 
the  Good,  Duke  of  Burgundy,  it  is  conjectured  that 
Nicolas  was  attached  to  the  court  of  that  prince.  .  .  . 
Nicolas  de  Caen  was  not  greatly  esteemed  nor  highly 
praised  by  his  contemporaries,  or  by  writers  of  the 
century  following,  but  latterly  has  received  the  rec- 
ognition due  to  his  unusual  qualities  of  invention  and 
conduct  of  narrative,  together  with  his  considerable 
knowledge  of  men  and  manners,  and  occasional  re- 
markable modernity  of  thought.  His  books,  there- 
fore, apart  from  the  interest  attached  to  them  as  speci- 
mens of  early  French  romance,  and  in  spite  of  the 
difficulties  and  crudities  of  the  unformed  language  in 
which  they  are  written,  are  still  readable,  and  are  rich 
in  instructive  detail  concerning  the  age  that  gave  them 
birth.  .  .  .  Many  romances  are  attributed  to  Nicolas 
de  Caen.  Modern  criticism  has  selected  four  only 
as  undoubtedly  his.  These  are — (1)  Les  Aventures 
d'Adhelmar  de  Nointel,  a  metrical  romance,  plainly  of 
youthful  composition,  containing  some  seven  thousand 
verses;  (2)  Le  Roy  Amaury,  well  known  to  English 
students  in  Watson's  spirited  translation;  (3)  Le  Ro- 
man de  Lusignan,  a  re-handling  of  the  Melusina  myth, 
most  of  which  is  wholly  lost ;  (4)  Le  Dizain  des  Reines, 


a  collection  of  quasi-historical  novellino  interspersed 
with  lyrics.  Six  other  romances  are  known  to  have 
been  written  by  Nicolas,  but  these  have  perished ;  and 
he  is  credited  with  the  authorship  of  Le  Cocu  Rouge, 
included  by  Hinsauf,  and  of  several  Ovidian  transla- 
tions or  imitations  still  unpublished.  The  Satires  for- 
merly attributed  to  him  Biilg  has  shown  to  be  spurious 
compositions  of  17th  century  origin. 

— E.  NOEL  CODMAN, 
Handbook  of  Literary  Pioneers. 


Nicolas  de  Caen  est  un  representant  agr cable,  naif, 
et  expressif  de  cet  age  que  nous  aimons  a  nous 
representer  de  loin  comme  1'age  d'or  du  bon  vieux 
temps.  .  .  .  Nicolas  croyait  a  son  Roy  et  a  sa  Dame, 
il  croyait  surtout  a  son  Dieu.  Nicolas  sentait  que  le 
monde  etait  seme  a  chaque  pas  d'obscurites  et 
d'embuches,  et  que  1'inconnu  etait  partout;  partout 
aussi  etait  le  protecteur  invisible  et  le  soutien ;  a  chaque 
souffle  qui  fremissait,  Nicolas  croyait  le  sentir  comme 
derriere  le  rideau.  Le  ciel  par-dessus  ce  Nicolas  de 
Caen  etait  ouvert,  peuple  en  chaque  point  de  figures 
vivantes,  de  patrons  attentifs  et  manifestes,  d'une  invo- 
cation directe.  Le  plus  intrepide  guerrier  alors  mar- 
chait  dans  un  melange  habituel  de  crainte  et  de  con- 
fiance,  comme  un  tout  petit  enfant.  A  cette  vue,  les 
esprits  les  plus  emancipes  d'aujourd'hui  ne  sauraient 
s'empecher  de  crier,  en  temperant  leur  sourire  par  le 
respect:  Sancta  simplicitas! 

— PAUL  VERVILLE, 
Notice  sur  la  vie  de  Nicolas  de  Caen. 


THE  ARGUMENT 

"Of  how,  through  Woman-Worship,  knaves  compound 
With  honoure;  Kings  reck  not  of  their  domaine; 
Proud  Pontiffs  sigh;  &  War-men  world-renownd, 
Toe  win  one  Woman,  all  things  else  disdaine: 
Since  Melicent  doth  in  herself e  contayne 
All  this  world's  Riches  that  may  farre  be  found. 

"If  Saphyres  ye  desire,  her  eies  are  plaine; 
If  Rubies,  he,  hir  lips  be  Rubyes  sound; 
If  Pearles,  hir  teeth  be  Pearles,  both  pure  &  round; 
If  Yvorie,  her  forehead  Yvory  weene; 
If  Gold,  her  locks  with  finest  Gold  abound; 
If  Silver,  her  faire  hands  have  Silver's  sheen. 

"Yet  that  which  fayrest  is,  but  Few  beholde, 
Her  Soul  adornd  with  vertues  manifold." 

— SIR  WILLIAM  ALLONBY. 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  LUSIGNAN  OF 
THAT  FORGOTTEN  MAKER  IN  THE 
FRENCH  TONGUE,  MESSIRE  NICOLAS 
DE  CAEN.  HERE  BEGINS  THE  TALE 
WHICH  THEY  OF  POICTESME  NAR- 
RATE CONCERNING  DAME  MELI- 
CENT,  THAT  WAS  DAUGHTER  TO 
THE  GREAT  COUNT  MANUEL. 


PART  ONE 
PERION 

How  Perion,  that  stalwart  was  and  gay, 
Treadeth  with  sorrow  on  a  holiday, 
Since  Melicent  anon  must  wed  a  king: 
How  in  his  heart  he  hath  vain  love-longing, 
For  which  he  putteth  life  in  forfeiture, 
And  would  no  longer  in  such  wise  endure; 
For  writhing  Perion  in  Venus'  fire 
So  burneth  that  he  dieth  for  desire. 


7. 

How  Per  ion  Was  Unmasked 


FRION  afterward  remembered  the  two  weeks 
>pent  at  Bellegarde  as  in  recovery  from  illness 
a  person  might  remember  some  long  fever- 
dream  which  was  all  of  an  intolerable  elvish  bright- 
ness and  of  incessant  laughter  everywhere.  They 
made  a  deal  of  him  in  Count  Emmerick's  pleasant 
home :  day  by  day  the  outlaw  was  thrust  into  rela- 
tions of  mirth  with  noblemen,  proud  ladies,  and  even 
with  a  king;  and  was  all  the  while  half  lightheaded 
through  his  singular  knowledge  as  to  how  pre- 
cariously the  self-styled  Vicomte  de  Puysange  now 
balanced  himself,  as  it  were,  upon  a  gilded  stepping- 
stone  from  infamy  to  oblivion. 

Now  that  King  Theodoret  had  withdrawn  his 
sinister  presence,  young  Perion  spent  some  seven 
hours  of  every  day  alone,  to  all  intent,  with  Dame 
Melicent.  There  might  be  merry  people  within  a 
stone's  throw,  about  this  recreation  or  another,  but 

19 


20  DOMNEI 

these  two  seemed  to  watch  aloofly,  as  royal  per- 
sons do  the  antics  of  their  hired  comedians,  without 
any  condescension  into  open  interest.  They  were 
together;  and  the  jostle  of  earthly  happenings  might 
hope,  at  most,  to  afford  them  matter  for  incurious 
comment. 

They  sat,  as  Perion  thought,  for  the  last  time  to- 
gether, part  of  an  audience  before  which  the  Con- 
fraternity of  St.  Medard  was  enacting  a  masque  of 
The  Birth  of  Hercules.  The  Bishop  of  Montors 
had  returned  to  Bellegarde  that  evening  with  his 
brother,  Count  Gui,  and  the  pleasure-loving  prelate 
had  brought  these  mirth-makers  in  his  train.  Clad 
in  scarlet,  he  rode  before  them  playing  upon  a  lute — 
unclerical  conduct  which  shocked  his  preciser  brother 
and  surprised  nobody. 

In  such  circumstances  Perion  began  to  speak  with 
an  odd  purpose,  because  his  reason  was  bedrugged 
by  the  beauty  and  purity  of  Melicent,  and  perhaps 
a  little  by  the  slow  and  clutching  music  to  whose 
progress  the  chorus  of  Theban  virgins  was  dancing. 
When  he  had  made  an  end  of  harsh  whispering, 
Melicent  sat  for  a  while  in  scrupulous  appraise- 
ment of  the  rushes.  The  music  was  so  sweet  it 
seemed  to  Perion  he  must  go  mad  unless  she  spoke 
within  the  moment. 


PERION  IS  UNMASKED  21 

Then  Melicent  said: 

"You  tell  me  you  are  not  the  Vicomte  de  Puy- 
sange.  You  tell  me  you  are,  instead,  the  late  King 
Helmas'  servitor,  suspected  of  his  murder.  You 
are  the  fellow  that  stole  the  royal  jewels — the  out- 
law for  whom  half  Christendom  is  searching — " 

Thus  Melicent  began  to  speak  at  last;  and  still 
he  could  not  intercept  those  huge  and  tender  eyes 
whose  purple  made  the  thought  of  heaven  compre- 
hensible. 

The  man  replied: 

"I  am  that  widely  hounded  Perion  of  the  Forest. 
The  true  vicomte  is  the  wounded  rascal  over  whose 
delirium  we  marvelled  only  last  Tuesday.  Yes,  at 
the  door  of  your  home  I  attacked  him,  fought  him 
— hah,  but  fairly,  madame! — and  stole  his  brilliant 
garments  and  with  them  his  papers.  Then  in  my 
desperate  necessity  I  dared  to  masquerade.  For  I 
know  enough  about  dancing  to  estimate  that  to 
dance  upon  air  must  necessarily  prove  to  every- 
body a  disgusting  performance,  but  pre-eminently 
unpleasing  to  the  main  actor.  Two  weeks  of  safety 
till  the  Tranchemer  sailed  I  therefore  valued  at  a 
perhaps  preposterous  rate.  To-night,  as  I  have  said, 
the  ship  lies  at  anchor  off  Manneville." 

Melicent  said  an  odd  thing,  asking,  "Oh,  can  it  be 


22  DOMNEI 


you  are  a  less  despicable  person  than  you  are  striv- 
ing to  appear !" 

"Rather,  I  am  a  more  unmitigated  fool  than  even 
I  suspected,  since  when  affairs  were  in  a  promising 
train  I  have  elected  to  blurt  out,  of  all  things,  the 
naked  and  distasteful  truth.  Proclaim  it  now;  and 
see  the  late  Vicomte  de  Puysange  lugged  out  of  this 
hall  and  after  appropriate  torture  hanged  within  the 
month."  And  with  that  Perion  laughed. 

Thereafter  he  was  silent.  As  the  masque  went, 
Amphitryon  had  newly  returned  from  warfare,  and 
was  singing  under  Alcmena's  window  in  the  terms 
of  an  aubade,  a  waking-song.  "Rei  glorias,  verais 
lums  e  clardatz — "  Amphitryon  had  begun.  Dame 
Melicent  heard  him  through. 

And  after  many  ages,  as  it  seemed  to  Perion,  the 
soft  and  brilliant  and  exquisite  mouth  was  pricked 
to  motion. 

"You  have  affronted,  by  an  incredible  imposture 
and  beyond  the  reach  of  mercy,  every  listener  in 
this  hall.  You  have  injured  me  most  deeply  of  all 
persons  here.  Yet  it  is  to  me  alone  that  you  con- 
fess." 

Perion  leaned  forward.  You  are  to  understand 
that,  through  the  incurrent  necessities  of  every  cir- 
cumstance, each  of  them  spoke  in  whispers,  even 


PERION  IS  UNMASKED  23 

now.  It  was  curious  to  note  the  candid  mirth  on 
either  side.  Mercury  was  making  his  adieux  to 
Alcmena's  waiting-woman  in  the  middle  of  a  jig. 

"But  you,"  sneered  Perion,  "are  merciful  in  all 
things.  Rogue  that  I  am,  I  dare  to  build  on  this 
notorious  fact.  I  am  snared  in  a  hard  golden  trap, 
I  cannot  get  a  guide  to  Manneville,  I  cannot  even 
procure  a  horse  from  Count  Emmerick's  stables 
without  arousing  fatal  suspicions ;  and  I  must  be  at 
Manneville  by  dawn  or  else  be  hanged.  Therefore 
I  dare  stake  all  upon  one  throw;  and  you  must 
either  save  or  hang  me  with  unwashed  hands.  As 
surely  as  God  reigns,  my  future  rests  with  you. 
And  as  I  am  perfectly  aware,  you  could  not  live 
comfortably  with  a  gnat's  death  upon  your  con- 
science. Eh,  am  I  not  a  seasoned  rascal  ?" 

"Do  not  remind  me  now  that  you  are  vile,"  said 
Melicent.  "Ah,  no,  not  now !" 

"Lackey,  impostor,  and  thief!"  he  sternly  an- 
swered. "There  you  have  the  catalogue  of  all  my 
rightful  titles.  And  besides,  it  pleases  me,  for  a 
reason  I  cannot  entirely  fathom,  to  be  unpardon- 
ably  candid  and  to  fling  my  destiny  into  your  lap. 
To-night,  as  I  have  said,  the  Tranchemer  lies  off 
Manneville ;  keep  counsel,  get  me  a  horse  if  you  will, 
and  to-morrow  I  am  embarked  for  desperate  service 


24  DOMNEI 

under  the  harried  Kaiser  of  the  Greeks,  and  for 
throat-cuttings  from  which  I  am  not  likely  ever  to 
return.  Speak,  and  I  hang  before  the  month  is  up." 

Dame  Melicent  looked  at  him  now,  and  within 
the  moment  Perion  was  repaid,  and  bountifully,  for 
every  folly  and  misdeed  of  his  entire  life. 

"What  harm  have  I  ever  done  you,  Messire  de 
la  Foret,  that  you  should  shame  me  in  this  fash- 
ion? Until  to-night  I  was  not  unhappy  in  the 
belief  I  was  loved  by  you.  I  may  say  that  now 
without  paltering,  since  you  are  not  the  man  I 
thought  some  day  to  love.  You  are  but  the  rind  of 
him.  And  you  would  force  me  to  cheat  justice, 
to  become  a  hunted  thief's  accomplice,  or  else  to 
murder  you!" 

"It  comes  to  that,  madame." 

"Then  I  must  help  you  preserve  your  life  by  any 
sorry  stratagems  you  may  devise.  I  shall  not  hinder 
you.  I  will  procure  you  a  guide  to  Manneville.  I 
will  even  forgive  you  all  save  one  offence,  since 
doubtless  heaven  made  you  the  foul  thing  you  are." 
The  girl  was  in  a  hot  and  splendid  rage.  "For  you 
love  me.  Women  know.  You  love  me.  You !" 

"Undoubtedly,  madame." 

"Look  into  my  face !  and  say  what  horrid  writ  of 


PERION  IS  UNMASKED  25 

infamy  you  fancied  was  apparent  there,  that  my 
nails  may  destroy  it." 

"I  am  all  base,"  he  answered,  "and  yet  not  so 
profoundly  base  as  you  suppose.  Nay,  believe  me, 
I  had  never  hoped  to  win  even  such  scornful  kind- 
ness as  you  might  accord  your  lapdog.  I  have  but 
dared  to  peep  at  heaven  while  I  might,  and  only  as 
lost  Dives  peeped.  Ignoble  as  I  am,  I  never 
dreamed  to  squire  an  angel  down  toward  the  mire 
and  filth  which  is  henceforward  my  inevitable 
kennel." 

"The  masque  is  done,"  said  Melicent,  "and  yet 
you  talk,  and  talk,  and  talk,  and  mimic  truth  so  cun- 
ningly—  Well,  I  will  send  some  trusty  person  to 
you.  And  now,  for  God's  sake! — nay,  for  the 
fiend's  love  who  is  your  patron ! — let  me  not  ever  see 
you  again,  Messire  de  la  Foret." 


2. 

How  the  Vicomte  Was  Very  Gay 


THERE  was  dancing  afterward  and  a  sump- 
tuous supper.  The  Vicomte  de  Puysange 
was  generally  accounted  that  evening  the 
most  excellent  of  company.  He  mingled  affably 
with  the  revellers  and  found  a  prosperous  answer 
for  every  jest  they  broke  upon  the  projected  mar- 
riage of  Dame  Melicent  and  King  Theodoret;  and 
meanwhile  hugged  the  reflection  that  half  the  realm 
was  hunting  Perion  de  la  Foret  in  the  more  custom- 
ary haunts  of  rascality.  The  springs  of  Perion's 
turbulent  mirth  were  that  to-morrow  every  person 
in  the  room  would  discover  how  impudently  every 
person  had  been  tricked,  and  that  Melicent  de- 
liberated even  now,  and  could  not  but  admire,  the 
hunted  outlaw's  insolence,  however  much  she 
loathed  its  perpetrator ;  and  over  this  thought  in  par- 
ticular Perion  laughed  like  a  madman. 

"You  are  very  gay  to-night,   Messire  de  Puy- 
sange," said  the  Bishop  of  Montors. 

26 


THE  VICOMTE  IS  GAY  27 

This  remarkable  young  man,  it  is  necessary  to 
repeat,  had  reached  Bellegarde  that  evening,  coming 
from  Brunbelois.  It  was  he  (as  you  have  heard) 
who  had  arranged  the  match  with  Theodoret.  The 
bishop  himself  loved  his  cousin  Melicent;  but,  now 
that  he  was  in  holy  orders  and  possession  of  her 
had  become  impossible,  he  had  cannily  resolved  to 
utilise  her  beauty,  as  he  did  everything  else,  toward 
his  own  preferment. 

"Oh,  sir,"  replied  Perion,  "you  who  are  so  fine 
a  poet  must  surely  know  that  gay  rhymes  with  to- 
day as  patly  as  sorrow  goes  with  to-morrow." 

"Yet  your  gay  laughter,  Messire  de  Puysange, 
is  after  all  but  breath:  and  breatH  also" — the 
bishop's  sharp  eyes  fixed  Perion's — "has  a  hack- 
neyed rhyme." 

"Indeed,  it  is  the  grim  rhyme  that  rounds  off  and 
silences  all  our  rhyming,"  Perion  assented.  "I  must 
laugh,  then,  without  rhyme  or  reason." 

Still  the  young  prelate  talked  rather  oddly. 
"But,"  said  he,  "you  have  an  excellent  reason,  now 
that  you  sup  so  near  to  heaven."  And  his  glance 
at  Melicent  did  not  lack  pith. 

"No,  no,  I  have  quite  another  reason,"  Perion  an- 
swered; "it  is  that  to-morrow  I  breakfast  in  hell." 

"Well,  they  tell  me  the  landlord  of  that  place  is 


28  DOMNEI 

used  to  cater  to  each  according  to  his  merits,"  the 
bishop,  shrugging,  returned. 

And  Perion  thought  how  true  this  was  when,  at 
the  evening's  end,  he  was  alone  in  his  own  room. 
His  life  was  tolerably  secure.  He  trusted  Ahasuerus 
the  Jew  to  see  to  it  that,  about  dawn,  one  of  the 
ship's  boats  would  touch  at  Fomor  Beach  near  Man- 
neville,  according  to  their  old  agreement.  Aboard 
the  Tranchemer  the  Free  Companions  awaited  their 
captain;  and  the  savage  land  they  were  bound  for 
was  a  thought  beyond  the  reach  of  a  kingdom's 
lamentable  curiosity  concerning  the  whereabouts  of 
King  Helmas'  treasure.  The  worthless  life  of  Per- 
ion was  safe. 

For  worthless,  and  far  less  than  worthless,  life 
seemed  to  Perion  as  he  thought  of  Melicent  and 
waited  for  her  messenger.  He  thought  of  her 
beauty  and  purity  and  illimitable  loving-kindness 
toward  every  person  in  the  world  save  only  Perion 
of  the  Forest.  He  thought  of  how  clean  she  was  in 
every  thought  and  deed;  of  that,  above  all,  he 
thought,  and  he  knew  that  he  would  never  see  her 
any  more. 

"Oh,  but  past  any  doubting,"  said  Perion,  "the 
devil  caters  to  each  according  to  his  merits." 


3- 

How  Melicent  Wooed 


THEN  Perion  knew  that  vain  regret  had  turned 
his  brain,  very  certainly,  for  it  seemed  the 
door  had  opened  and  Dame  Melicent  herself 
had  come,  warily,  into  the  panelled  gloomy  room. 
It  seemed  that  Melicent  paused  in  the  convulsive 
brilliancy  of   the  firelight,   and  stayed  thus  with 
vaguely  troubled  eyes  like  those  of  a  child  newly 
wakened  from  sleep. 

And  it  seemed  a  long  while  before  she  told  Perion 
very  quietly  that  she  had  confessed  all  to  Ayrart  de 
Montors,  and  had,  by  reason  of  de  Montors'  love 
for  her,  so  goaded  and  allured  the  outcome  of  their 
talk — "ignobly,"  as  she  said, — that  a  clean-handed 
gentleman  would  come  at  three  o'clock  for  Perion 
de  la  Foret,  and  guide  a  thief  toward  unmerited 
impunity.  All  this  she  spoke  quite  levelly,  as  one 
reads  aloud  from  a  book;  and  then,  with  a  signal 

29 


30  DOMNEI 

change  of  voice,  Melicent  said :  "Yes,  that  is  true 
enough.  Yet  why,  in  reality,  do  you  think  I  have  in 
my  own  person  come  to  tell  you  of  it?" 

"  Madame,  I  may  not  guess.  Hah,  indeed,  in- 
deed," Perion  cried,  because  he  knew  the  truth  and 
was  unspeakably  afraid,  "I  dare  not  guess !" 

"You  sail  to-morrow  for  the  fighting  oversea — " 
she  began,  but  her  sweet  voice  trailed  and  died  into 
silence.  He  heard  the  crepitations  of  the  fire,  and 
even  the  hurried  beatings  of  his  own  heart,  as 
against  a  terrible  and  lovely  hush  of  all  created 
life.  "Then  take  me  with  you." 

Perion  had  never  any  recollection  of  what  he  an- 
swered: Indeed,  he  uttered  no  communicative 
words,  but  only  foolish  babblements. 

"Oh,  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Melicent.    "It  is 

/    as  though  some  spell  were  laid  upon  me.    Look  you, 

I  have  been  cleanly  reared,  I  have  never  wronged 

any  person  that  I  know  of,  and  throughout  my  quiet, 

sheltered  life  I  have  loved  truth  and  honour  most 

of  all.    My  judgment  grants  you  to  be  what  you 

are  confessedly.     And  there  is  that  in  me  more 

masterful  and  surer  than  my  judgment,  that  which 

\     seems  omniscient  and  lightly  puts  aside  your  con- 

fessings  as  unimportant." 

"Lackey,  impostor,  and  thief !"  young  Perion  an- 


MELICENT  WOOES  31 

swered.  "There  you  have  the  catalogue  of  all 
my  rightful  titles  fairly  earned." 

"And  even  if  I  believed  you,  I  think  I  would  not 
care!  Is  that  not  strange?  For  then  I  should 
despise  you.  And  even  then,  I  think,  I  would  fling 
my  honour  at  your  feet,  as  I  do  now,  and  but  in 
part  with  loathing,  I  would  still  entreat  you  to 
make  of  me  your  wife,  your  servant,  anything  that 
pleased  you.  .  .  .  Oh,  I  had  thought  that  when  love 
came  it  would  be  sweet !" 

Strangely  quiet,  in  every  sense,  he  answered : 

"It  is  very  sweet.  I  have  known  no  happier  mo- 
ment in  my  life.  For  you  stand  within  arm's  reach, 
mine  to  touch,  mine  to  possess  and  do  vith  as  I 
elect.  And  I  dare  not  lift  a  finger.  I  am  as  a  man 
that  has  lain  for  a  long  while  in  a  dungeon  vainly 
hungering  for  the  glad  light  of  day — who,  being 
freed  at  last,  must  hide  his  eyes  from  the  dear  sun- 
light he  dare  not  look  upon  as  yet.  Ho,  I  am  past 
speech  unworthy  of  your  notice!  and  I  pray  you 
now  speak  harshly  with  me,  madame,  for  when  your 
pure  eyes  regard  me  kindly,  and  your  bright  and 
delicate  lips  have  come  thus  near  to  mine,  I  am  so 
greatly  tempted  and  so  happy  that  I  fear  lest  heaven 
grow  jealous!" 

"Be  not  too  much  afraid — "  she  murmured. 


32  DOMNEI 

"Nay,  should  I  then  be  bold  ?  and  within  the  mo- 
ment wake  Count  Emmerick  to  say  to  him,  very 
boldly,  'Beau  sire,  the  thief  half  Christendom  is 
hunting  has  the  honour  to  request  your  sister's  hand 
in  marriage'  ?" 

"You  sail  to-morrow  for  the  fighting  oversea. 
Take  me  with  you." 

"Indeed  the  feat  would  be  worthy  of  me.  For 
you  are  a  lady  tenderly  nurtured  and  used  to  every 
luxury  the  age  affords.  There  comes  to  woo  you 
presently  an  excellent  and  potent  monarch,  not  all 
unworthy  of  your  love,  who  will  presently  share 
with  you  many  happy  and  honourable  years.  Yon- 
der is  a  lawless  naked  wilderness  where  I  and  my 
fellow  desperadoes  hope  to  cheat  offended  justice 
and  to  preserve  thrice-forfeited  lives  in  savagery. 
You  bid  me  aid  you  to  go  into  this  country,  never 
to  return!  Madame,  if  I  obeyed  you,  Satan  would 
protest  against  pollution  of  his  ageless  fires  by  any 
soul  so  filthy." 

"You  talk  of  little  things,  whereas  I  think  of 
great  things.  Love  is  not  sustained  by  palatable 
food  alone,  and  is  not  served  only  by  those  persons 
who  go  about  the  world  in  satin." 

"Then  take  the  shameful  truth.  It  is  undeniable 
I  swore  I  loved  you,  and  with  appropriate  gestures, 


MELICENT  WOOES  33 

too.  But,  dompnedex,  madame !  I  am  past  master 
in  these  specious  ecstasies,  for  somehow  I  have 
rarely  seen  the  woman  who  had  not  some  charm  or 
other  to  catch  my  heart  with.  I  confess  now  that 
you  alone  have  never  quickened  it.  My  only  pur- 
pose was  through  hyperbole  to  wheedle  you  out  of 
a  horse,  and  meanwhile  to  have  my  recreation,  you 
handsome  jade! — and  that  is  all  you  ever  meant  to 
me.  I  swear  to  you  that  is  all,  all,  all!"  sobbed 
Perion,  for  it  appeared  that  he  must  die.  "I  have 
amused  myself  with  you,  I  have  abominably  tricked 
you—" 

Melicent  only  waited  with  untroubled  eyes  which 
seemed  to  plumb  his  heart  and  to  appraise  all 
which  Perion  had  ever  thought  or  longed  for  since 
the  day  that  Perion  was  born ;  and  she  was  as  beau- 
tiful, it  seemed  to  him,  as  the  untroubled,  gracious 
angels  are,  and  more  compassionate. 

"Yes,"  Perion  said,  "I  am  trying  to  lie  to  you. 
And  even  at  lying  I  fail." 

She  said,  with  a  wonderful  smile: 

"Assuredly  there  were  never  any  other  persons 
so  mad  as  we.  For  I  must  do  the  wooing,  as  though 
you  were  the  maid,  and  all  the  while  you  rebuff  me 
and  suffer  so  that  I  fear  to  look  on  you.  Men  say 
you  are  no  better  than  a  highwayman ;  you  confess 


34  DOMNEI 

yourself  to  be  a  thief:  and  I  believe  none  of  your 
accusers.  Perion  de  la  Foret,"  said  Melicent,  and 
ballad-makers  have  never  shaped  a  phrase  where- 
with to  tell  you  of  her  voice,  "I  know  that  you 
have  dabbled  in  dishonour  no  more  often  than  an 
archangel  has  pilfered  drying  linen  from  a  hedge- 
row. I  do  not  guess,  for  my  hour  is  upon  me,  and 
inevitably  I  know!  and  there  is  nothing  dares  to 
come  between  us  now." 

"Nay, — ho,  and  even  were  matters  as  you  sup- 
pose them,  without  any  warrant, — there  is  at  least 
one  silly  stumbling  knave  that  dares  as  much.  Saith 
he :  'What  is  the  most  precious  thing  in  the  world  ? 
— Why,  assuredly,  Dame  Melicent's  welfare.  Let 
me  get  the  keeping  of  it,  then.  For  I  have  been 
entrusted  with  a  host  of  common  priceless  things — 
with  youth  and  vigour  and  honour,  with  a  clean  con- 
science and  a  child's  faith,  and  so  on — and  no  per- 
son alive  has  squandered  them  more  gallantly.  So 
heartward  ho !  and  trust  me  now,  my  timorous  yoke- 
fellow, to  win  and  squander  also  the  chiefest  jewel 
of  the  world.'  Eh,  thus  he  chuckles  and  nudges  me, 
with  wicked  whisperings.  Indeed,  madame,  this 
rascal  that  shares  equally  in  my  least  faculty  is  a 
most  pitiful,  ignoble  rogue!  and  he  has  aforetime 
eked  out  our  common  livelihood  by  such  practices 


35 


as  your  unsullied  imagination  could  scarcely  depic- 
ture. Until  I  knew  you  I  had  endured  him.  But 
you  have  made  of  him  a  horror.  A  horror,  a  horror ! 
a  thing  too  pitiful  for  hell !" 

Perion  turned  away  from  her,  groaning.  He 
flung  himself  into  a  chair.  He  screened  his  eyes 
as  if  before  some  physical  abomination. 

The  girl  kneeled  close  to  him,   touching  him. 

"My  dear,  my  dear!  then  slay  for  me  this  other 
Perion  of  the  Forest." 

And  Perion  laughed,  not  very  mirthfully. 

"It  is  the  common  usage  of  women  to  ask  of 
men  this  little  labour,  which  is  a  harder  task  than 
ever  Hercules,  that  mighty-muscled  king  of 
heathenry,  achieved.  Nay,  I,  for  all  my  sinews,  am 
an  attested  weakling.  The  craft  of  other  men  I 
do  not  fear,  for  I  have  encountered  no  formidable 
enemy  save  myself ;  but  that  same  midnight  stabber 
unhorsed  me  long  ago.  I  had  wallowed  in  the 
mire  contentedly  enough  until  you  came.  .  .  .  Ah, 
child,  child!  why  needed  you  to  trouble  me!  for 
to-night  I  want  to  be  clean  as  you  are  clean,  and 
that  I  may  not  ever  be.  I  am  garrisoned  with  devils, 
I  am  the  battered  plaything  of  every  vice,  and  I 
lack  the  strength,  and  it  may  be,  even  the  will,  to 
leave  my  mire.  Always  I  have  betrayed  the  stew- 


36  DOMNEI 

ardship  of  man  and  god  alike  that  my  body  might 
escape  a  momentary  discomfort!  And  loving  you 
as  I  do,  I  cannot  swear  that  in  the  outcome  I  would 
not  betray  you  too,  to  this  same  end!  I  cannot 
swear —  Oh,  now  let  Satan  laugh,  yet  not  un- 
piti fully,  since  he  and  I,  alone,  know  all  the  reasons 
why  I  may  not  swear!  Hah,  Madame  Melicent!" 
cried  Perion,  in  his  great  agony,  "you  offer  me  that 
gift  an  emperor  might  not  accept  save  in  awed 
gratitude;  and  I  refuse  it."  Gently  he  raised  her 
to  her  feet.  "And  now,  in  God's  name,  go,  madame, 
and  leave  the  prodigal  among  his  husks." 

"You  are  a  very  brave  and  foolish  gentleman," 
she  said,  "who  chooses  to  face  his  own  achieve- 
ments without  any  paltering.  To  every  man,  I 
think,  that  must  be  bitter  work ;  to  the  woman  who 
loves  him  it  is  impossible." 

Perion  could  not  see  her  face,  because  he  lay 
prone  at  the  feet  of  Melicent,  sobbing,  but  without 
any  tears,  and  tasting  very  deeply  of  such  grief 
and  vain  regret  as,  he  had  thought,  they  know  in 
hell  alone;  and  even  after  she  had  gone,  in  silence, 
he  lay  in  this  same  posture  for  an  exceedingly  long 
while. 

And  after  he  knew  not  how  long  a  while,  Perion 
propped  his  chin  between  his  hands  and,  still  sprawl- 


MELICENT  WOOES  37 

ing  upon  the  rushes,  stared  hard  into  the  little, 
crackling  fire.  He  was  thinking  of  a  Perion  de  la 
Foret  that  once  had  been.  In  him  might  have  been 
found  a  fit  mate  for  Melicent  had  this  boy  not  died 
very  long  ago. 

It  is  no  more  cheerful  than  any  other  mortuary 
employment,  this  disinterment  of  the  person  you  ) 
have  been,  and  are  not  any  longer ;  and  so  did  Perion 
find  his  cataloguing  of  irrevocable  old  follies  and 
evasions. 

Then  Perion  arose  and  looked  for  pen  and  ink. 
It  was  the  first  letter  he  ever  wrote  to  Melicent, 
and,  as  you  will  presently  learn,  she  never  saw  it. 

In  such  terms  Perion  wrote : 

"MADAME — It  may  please  you  to  remember  that 
when  Dame  Melusine  and  I  were  interrogated,  I  freely 
confessed  to  the  murder  of  King  Helmas  and  the  theft 
of  my  dead  master's  jewels.  In  that  I  lied.  For  it 
was  my  manifest  duty  to  save  the  woman  whom,  as  I 
thought,  I  loved,  and  it  was  apparent  that  the  guilty 
person  was  either  she  or  I. 

"She  is  now  at  Brunbelois,  where,  as  I  have  heard, 
the  splendour  of  her  estate  is  tolerably  notorious.  I 
have  not  ever  heard  she  gave  a  thought  to  me,  her 
cat's-paw.  Madame,  when  I  think  of  you  and  then  of 
that  sleek,  smiling  woman,  I  am  appalled  by  my  own 
folly.  I  am  aghast  by  my  long  blindness  as  I  write 


•!  o/ir: 


38  DOMNEI 


the  words  which  no  one  will  believe.  To  what  avail  do 
I  deny  a  crime  which  every  circumstance  imputed  to 
me  and  my  own  confession  has  publicly  acknowledged  ? 

"But  you,  I  think,  will  believe  me.  Look  you,  ma- 
dame,  I  have  nothing  to  gain  of  you.  I  shall  not  ever 
see  you  any  more.  I  go  into  a  perilous  and  an  eternal 
banishment;  and  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of 
death  a  man  finds  little  sustenance  for  romance.  Take 
the  worst  of  me:  a  gentleman  I  was  born,  and  as  a 
wastrel  I  have  lived,  and  always  very  foolishly;  but 
without  dishonour.  I  have  never  to  my  knowledge — 
and  God  judge  me  as  I  speak  the  truth ! — wronged  any 
man  or  woman  save  myself.  My  dear,  believe  me! 
believe  me,  in  spite  of  reason !  and  understand  that  my 
adoration  and  misery  and  unworthiness  when  I  think 
of  you  are  such  as  I  cannot  measure,  and  afford  me  no 
judicious  moment  wherein  to  fashion  lies.  For  I  shall 
not  see  you  any  more. 

"I  thank  you,  madame,  for  your  all-unmerited  kind- 
nesses, and,  oh,  I  pray  you  to  believe  I" 


4- 

How  the  Bishop  Aided  Perion 


THEN  at  three  o'clock,  as  Perion  supposed, 
someone  tapped  upon  the  door.    Perion  went 
out  into  the  corridor,  which  was  now  un- 
lighted,  so  that  he  had  to  hold  to  the  cloak  of  Ayrart 
de  Montors  as  the  young  prelate  guided   Perion 
through  the  complexities  of  unfamiliar  halls  and 
stairways  into  an  inhospitable  night.     There  were 
ready  two  horses,   and   presently  the   men   were 
mounted  and  away. 

Once  only  Perion  shifted  in  the  saddle  to  glance 
back  at  Bellegarde,  black  and  formless  against  an 
empty  sky;  and  he  dared  not  look  again,  for  the 
thought  of  her  that  lay  awake  in  the  Marshal's 
Tower,  so  near  at  hand  as  yet,  was  like  a  dagger. 
With  set  teeth  he  followed  in  the  wake  of  his  taci- 
turn companion.  The  bishop  never  spoke  save  to 
growl  out  some  direction. 

Thus  they  came  to  Manneville  and,  skirting  the 
39 


40  DOMNEI 


town,  came  to  Fomor  Beach,  a  narrow  sandy  coast. 
It  was  dark  in  this  place  and  very  still  save  for  the 
encroachment  of  the  tide.  Yonder  were  four  little 
lights,  lazily  heaving  with  the  water's  motion,  to 
show  them  where  the  Tranchemer  lay  at  anchor. 
It  did  not  seem  to  Perion  that  anything  mattered. 

"It  will  be  nearing  dawn  by  this,"  he  said. 

"Ay,"  Ayrart  de  Montors  said,  very  briefly;  and 
his  tone  evinced  his  willingness  to  dispense  with 
further  conversation.  Perion  of  the  Forest  was  an 
unclean  thing  which  the  bishop  must  touch  in  his  ne- 
cessity, but  could  touch  with  loathing  only,  as  a 
thirsty  man  takes  a  fly  out  of  his  drink.  Perion 
conceded  it,  because  nothing  would  ever  matter 
any  more ;  and  so,  the  horses  tethered,  they  sat  upon 
the  sand  in  utter  silence  for  the  space  of  a  half  hour. 

A  bird  cried  somewhere,  just  once,  and  with  a 
start  Perion  knew  the  night  was  not  quite  so  murky 
as  it  had  been,  for  he  could  now  see  a  broken  line 
of  white,  where  the  tide  crept  up  and  shattered 
and  ebbed.  Then  in  a  while  a  light  sank  tipsily  to 
the  water's  level  and  presently  was  bobbing  in  the 
darkness,  apart  from  those  other  lights,  and  it  was 
growing  in  size  and  brilliancy. 

Said  Perion,  "They  have  sent  out  the  boat." 

"Ay,"  the  bishop  answered,  as  before. 


THE  BISHOP  AIDS  41 

A  sort  of  madness  came  upon  Perion,  and  it 
seemed  that  he  must  weep,  because  everything  fell 
out  so  very  ill  in  this  world. 

"Messire  de  Montors,  you  have  aided  me.  I 
would  be  grateful  if  you  permitted  it." 

De  Montors  spoke  at  last,  saying  crisply: 

"Gratitude,  I  take  it,  forms  no  part  of  the  bar- 
gain. I  am  the  kinsman  of  Dame  Melicent.  It 
makes  for  my  interest  and  for  the  honour  of  our 
house  that  the  man  whose  rooms  she  visits  at 
night  be  got  out  of  Poictesme — " 

Said  Perion,  "You  speak  in  this  fashion  of  the 
most  lovely  lady  God  has  made — of  her  whom  the 
world  adores!" 

"Adores!"  the  bishop  answered,  with  a  laugh; 
"and  what  poor  gull  am  I  to  adore  an  attested 
wanton?"  Then,  with  a  sneer,  he  spoke  of  Meli- 
cent, and  in  such  terms  as  are  noi  bettered  by 
repetition. 

Perion  said: 

"I  am  the  most  unhappy  man  alive,  as  surely  as 
you  are  the  most  ungenerous.  For,  look  you,  in 
my  presence  you  have  spoken  infamy  of  Dame 
Melicent,  though  knowing  I  am  in  your  debt  so 
deeply  that  I  have  not  the  right  to  resent  anything 
you  may  elect  to  say.  You  have  just  given  me  my 


42  DOMNEI 


life;  and  armoured  by  the  fire-new  obligation,  you 
blaspheme  an  angel,  you  condescend  to  buffet  a 
fettered  man — " 

But  with  that  his  sluggish  wits  had  spied  an 
honest  way  out  of  the  imbroglio. 

Perion  said  then,  "Draw,  messire!  for,  as  God 
lives,  I  may  yet  repurchase,  at  this  eleventh  hour, 
the  privilege  of  destroying  you." 

"Heyday!  but  here  is  an  odd  evincement  of 
gratitude!"  de  Montors  retorted;  "and  though  I 
am  not  particularly  squeamish,  let  me  tell  you,  my 
fine  fellow,  I  do  not  ordinarily  fight  with  lackeys." 

"Nor  are  you  fit  to  do  so,  messire.  Believe  me, 
there  is  not  a  lackey  in  this  realm — no,  not  a  cut- 
purse,  nor  any  pander — who  would  not  in  meeting 
you  upon  equal  footing  degrade  himself.  For  you 
have  slandered  that  which  is  most  perfect  in  the 
world;  yet  lies,  Messire  de  Montors,  have  short 
legs;  and  I  design  within  the  hour  to  insure  the 
calumny  against  an  echo." 

"Rogue,  I  have  given  you  your  very  life  within 
the  hour — " 

"The  fact  is  undeniable.  Thus  I  must  fling  the 
bounty  back  to  you,  so  that  we  sorry  scoundrels  may 
meet  as  equals."  Perion  wheeled  toward  the  boat, 


THE  BISHOP"  AIDS  43 

which  was  now  within  the  reach  of  wading.  "Who 
is  among  you?  Gaucelm,  Roger,  Jean  Britauz — " 
He  found  the  man  he  sought.  "Ahasuerus,  the  cap- 
tain that  was  to  have  accompanied  the  Free  Com- 
panions oversea  is  of  another  mind.  I  cede  my 
leadership  to  Landry  de  Bonnay.  You  will  have 
the  kindness  to  inform  him  of  the  unlooked-for 
change,  and  to  tender  your  new  captain  every  ap- 
propriate regret  and  the  dying  felicitations  of  Perion 
de  la  Foret." 

He  bowed  toward  the  landward  twilight,  where 
the  sand  hillocks  were  taking  form. 

"Messire  de  Mentors,  we  may  now  resume  our 
vigil.  When  yonder  vessel  sails  there  will  be  no 
conceivable  happening  that  can  keep  breath  within 
my  body  two  weeks  longer.  I  shall  be  quit  of 
every  debt  to  you.  You  will  then  fight  with  a 
man  already  dead  if  you  so  elect;  bu  otherwise — 
if  you  attempt  to  flee  this  place,  if  you  decline  to 
cross  swords  with  a  lackey,  with  a  convicted  thief, 
with  a  suspected  murderer,  I  swear  upon  my 
mother's  honour !  I  will  demolish  you  without  com- 
punction, as  I  would  any  other  vermin." 

"Oh,  brave,  brave!"  sneered  the  bishop,  "to  fling 
away  your  life,  and  perhaps  mine  too,  for  an  idle 


44  DOMNEI 

word — "  But  at  that  he  fetched  a  sob.  "How 
foolish  of  you!  and  how  like  you!"  he  said,  and 
Perion  wondered  at  this  prelate's  voice. 

"Hey,  gentlemen!"  cried  Ayrart  de  Montors,  "a 
moment  if  you  please !"  He  splashed  kneedeep  into 
the  icy  water,  wading  to  the  boat,  where  he  snatched 
the  lantern  from  the  Jew's  hands  and  fetched  this 
light  ashore.  He  held  it  aloft,  so  that  Perion  might 
see  his  face,  and  Perion  perceived  that,  by  some 
wonder-working,  the  person  in  man's  attire  who  held 
this  light  aloft  was  Melicent.  It  was  odd  that 
Perion  always  remembered  afterward  most  clearly 
of  all  the  loosened  wisp  of  hair  the  wind  tossed 
about  her  forehead. 

"Look  well  upon  me,  Perion,"  said  Melicent. 
"Look  well,  ruined  gentleman!  look  well,  poor 
hunted  vagabond !  and  note  how  proud  I  am.  Oh, 
in  all  things  I  am  very  proud!  A  little  I  exult  in 
my  high  station  and  in  my  wealth,  and,  yes,  even 
in  my  beauty,  for  I  know  that  I  am  beautiful,  but 
it  is  the  chief  of  all  my  honours  that  you  love  me — 
and  so  foolishly!" 

"You  do  not  understand — !"  cried  Perion. 

"Rather  I  understand  at  last  that  you  are  in  sober 
verity  a  lackey,  an  impostor,  and  a  thief,  even  as 
you  said.  Ay,  a  lackey  to  your  honour!  an  im- 


THE  BISHOP  AIDS  45 

poster  that  would  endeavour — and,  oh,  so  very 
vainly! — to  impersonate  another's  baseness!  and  a 
thief  that  has  stolen  another  person's  punishment! 
I  ask  no  questions;  loving  means  trusting;  but  I 
would  like  to  kill  that  other  person  very,  very 
slowly.  I  ask  no  questions,  but  I  dare  to  trust 
the  man  I  know  of,  even  in  defiance  of  that  man's 
own  voice.  I  dare  protest  the  man  no  thief,  but  in 
all  things  a  madly  honourable  gentleman.  My  poor 
bruised,  puzzled  boy,"  said  Melicent,  with  an  odd 
mirthful  tenderness,  "how  came  you  to  be  blunder- 
ing about  this  miry  world  of  ours !  Only  be  very 
good  for  my  sake  and  forget  the  bitterness;  what 
does  it  matter  when  there  is  happiness,  too?" 

He  answered  nothing,  but  it  was  not  because 
of  misery. 

"Come,  come,  will  you  not  even  help  me  into 
the  boat?"  said  Melicent.  She,  too,  wa^  glad. 


5- 

How  Melicent  Wedded 


THAT  may  not  be,  my  cousin." 
It  was  the  real  Bishop  of  Mentors  who 
was  speaking.     His  company,  some  fifteen 
men  in  all,  had  ridden  up  while  Melicent  and  Perion 
looked  seaward.     The  bishop  was  clothed,  in  his 
habitual  fashion,  as  a  cavalier,  showing  in  nothing 
as  a  churchman.    He  sat  a-horseback  for  a  consid- 
erable while,  looking  down  at  them,  smiling  and 
stroking  the  pommel  of  his  saddle  with  a  gold- 
fringed  glove.    It  was  now  dawn. 

"I  have  been  eavesdropping,"  the  bishop  said. 
His  voice  was  tender,  for  the  young  man  loved  his 
kinswoman  with  an  affection  second  only  to  that 
which  he  reserved  for  Ayrart  de  Montors.  "Yes, 
I  have  been  eavesdropping  for  an  instant,  and 
through  that  instant  I  seemed  to  see  the  heart  of 
every  woman  that  ever  lived;  and  they  differed 
only  as  stars  differ  on  a  fair  night  in  August.  No 

46 


MELICENT  WEDS  47 

woman  ever  loved  a  man  except,  at  bottom,  as  a 
mother  loves  her  child :  let  him  elect  to  build  a  nation 
or  to  write  imperishable  verses  or  to  take  purses 
upon  the  highway,  and  she  will  only  smile  to  note 
how  breathlessly  the  boy  goes  about  his  playing; 
and  when  he  comes  back  to  her  with  grimier  hands 
she  is  a  little  sorry,  and,  if  she  think  it  salutary, 
will  pretend  to  be  angry.  Meanwhile  she  sets  about 
the  quickest  way  to  cleanse  him  and  to  heal  his 
bruises.  They  are  more  wise  than  we,  and  at  the 
bottom  of  their  hearts  they  pity  us  more  stalwart 
folk  whose  grosser  wits  require,  to  be  quite  sure 
of  anything,  a  mere  crass  proof  of  it;  and  always 
they  make  us  better  by  indomitably  believing  we 
are  better  than  in  reality  a  man  can  ever  be." 

Now  Ayrart  de  Montors  dismounted. 

"So  much  for  my  sermon.  For  the  rest,  Messire 
de  la  Foret,  I  perfectly  recognised  you  on  the  day 
you  came  to  Bellegarde.  But  I  said  nothing.  For 
that  you  had  not  murdered  King  Helmas,  as  is 
popularly  reported,  I  was  certain,  inasmuch  as  I 
happen  to  know  he  is  now  at  Brunbelois,  where 
Dame  Melusine  holds  his  person  and  his  treasury. 
A  terrible,  delicious  woman!  begotten  on  a  water- 
demon,  people  say.  I  ask  no  questions.  She  is  a 
close  and  useful  friend  to  me,  and  through  her  aid 


48  DOMNEI 


I  hope  to  go  far.  You  see  that  I  am  frank.  It  is 
my  nature."  The  bishop  shrugged.  "In  a  phrase,  I 
accepted  the  Vicomte  de  Puysange,  although  it  was 
necessary,  of  course,  to  keep  an  eye  upon  your  com- 
ings in  and  your  goings  out,  as  you  now  see.  And 
until  this  the  imposture  amused  me.  But  this" — 
his  hand  waved  toward  the  Tranchemer — "this,  my 
fair  friends,  is  past  a  jest." 

"You  talk  and  talk,"  cried  Perion,  "while  I  reflect 
that  I  love  the  fairest  lady  who  at  any  time  has 
had  life  upon  earth." 

"The  proof  of  your  affection,"  the  bishop  re- 
turned, "is,  if  you  will  permit  the  observation, 
somewhat  extraordinary.  For  you  propose,  I 
gather,  to  make  of  her  a  camp-follower,  a  soldier's 
drab.  Come,  come,  messire!  you  and  I  are  con- 
versant with  warfare  as  it  is.  Armies  do  not  con- 
duct encounters  by  throwing  sugar-candy  at  one 
another.  What  home  have  you,  a  landless  man,  to 
offer  Melicent?  What  place  is  there  for  Melicent 
among  your  Free  Companions?" 

"Oh,  do  I  not  know  that!"  said  Perion.  He 
turned  to  Melicent,  and  long  and  long  they  gazed 
upon  each  other. 

"Ignoble    as    I    am,"    said    Perion,    "I    never 


MELICENT  WEDS  49 

dreamed  to  squire  an  angel  down  toward  the  mire 
and  filth  which  for  a  while  as  yet  must  be  my 
kennel.  I  go.  I  go  alone.  Do  you  bid  me  re- 
turn?" 

The  girl  was  perfectly  calm.  She  took  a  ring  of 
diamonds  from  her  hand,  and  placed  it  on  his  little 
finger,  because  the  others  were  too  large. 

"While  life  endures  I  pledge  you  faith  and  serv- 
ice, Perion.  There  is  no  need  to  speak  of  love." 

"There  is  no  need,"  he  answered.  "Oh,  does 
God  think  that  I  will  live  without  you!" 

"I  suppose  they  will  give  me  to  King  Theodoret. 
The  terrible  old  man  has  set  my  body  as  the  only 
price  that  will  buy  him  off  from  ravaging  Poictesme, 
and  he  is  stronger  in  the  field  than  Emmerick. 
Emmerick  is  afraid  of  him,  and  Ayrart  here  has 
need  of  the  King's  friendship  in  order  to  become 
a  cardinal.  So  my  kinsmen  must  make  traffic  of 
my  eyes  and  lips  and  hair.  But  first  I  wed  you, 
Perion,  here  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  I  bid  you 
return  to  me,  who  am  your  wife*  and  servitor  for 
ever  now,  whatever  lesser  men  may  do." 

"I  will  return,"  he  said. 

Then  in  a  little  while  she  withdrew  her  lips  from 
his  lips. 


SO  DOMNEI 

"Cover  my  face,  Ayrart  It  may  be  I  shall  weep 
presently.  Men  must  not  see  the  wife  of  Perion 
weep.  Cover  my  face,  for  he  is  going  now,  and 
I  cannot  watch  his  going." 


PART  TWO 
MELICENT 

Of  how  through  love  is  Melicent  upcast 
Under  a  heathen  castle  at  the  last: 
And  how  a  wicked  lord  of  proud  degree, 
D  erne  trios,  dwelleth  in  this  country, 
Where  humbled  under  him  are  all  mankind: 
How  to  this  wretched  woman  he  hath  mind, 
That  fallen  is  in  pagan  lands  alone, 
In  point  to.  die,  as  presently  is  shown. 


6. 

How  Melicent  Sought  Oversea 


IT  is  a  tale  which  they  narrate  in  Poictesme, 
telling  how  love  began  between  Perion  of  the 
Forest,  who  was  a  captain  of  mercenaries,  and 
young  Melicent,   who  was  daughter  to  the  great 
Dom  Manuel,  and  sister  to  Count  Emmerick  of 
Poictesme.    They  tell  also  how  Melicent  and  Perion 
were  parted,  because  there  was  no  remedy,  and 
policy  demanded  she  should  wed  King  Theodoret. 
And  the  tale  tells  how  Perion  sailed  with  his 
retainers  to  seek  desperate  service  under  the  har- 
ried Kaiser  of  the  Greeks. 

This  venture  was  ill-fated,  since,  as  the  Free 
Companions  were  passing  not  far  from  Masillia, 
their  vessel  being  at  the  time  becalmed,  they  were 
attacked  by  three  pagan  galleys  under  the  admiralty 
of  the  proconsul  Demetrios.  Perion's  men,  who 
fought  so  hardily  on  land,  were  novices  at  sea. 
They  were  powerless  against  an  adversary  who, 

53 


54  DOMNEI 

from  a  great  distance,  showered  liquid  fire  upon 
their  vessel. 

Then  Demetrios  sent  little  boats  and  took  some 
thirty  prisoners  from  the  blazing  ship,  and  made 
slaves  of  all  save  Ahasuerus  the  Jew,  whom  he 
released  on  being  informed  of  the  lean  man's  re- 
ligion. It  was  a  customary  boast  of  this  Demetrios 
that  he  made  war  on  Christians  only. 

And  presently,  as  Perion  had  commanded,  Ahas- 
uerus came  to  Melicent. 

The  princess  sat  in  a  high  chair,  the  back  of 
which  was  capped  with  a  big  lion's  head  in  brass. 
It  gleamed  above  her  head,  but  was  less  glorious 
than  her  bright  hair. 

Ahasuerus  made  dispassionate  report.  "Thus 
painfully  I  have  delivered,  as  my  task  was,  these 
fine  messages  concerning  Faith  and  Love  and  Death 
and  so  on.  Touching  their  rationality  I  may  re- 
serve my  own  opinion.  I  am  merely  Perion's  echo. 
Do  I  echo  madness?  This  madman  was  my  loved 
and  honoured  master  once,  a  lord  without  any  peer 
in  the  fields  where  men  contend  in  battle.  To-day 
those  sinews  which  preserved  a  throne  are  dedi- 
cated to  the  transportation  of  luggage.  Grant  it  is 
laughable.  I  do  not  laugh." 

"And  I  lack  time  to  weep,"  said  Melicent. 


MELICENT  SEEKS  55 

So,  when  the  Jew  had  told  his  tale  and  gone, 
young  Melicent  arose  and  went  into  a  chamber 
painted  with  the  histories  of  Jason  and  Medea, 
where  her  brother  Count  Emmerick  hid  such  jewels 
as  had  not  many  equals  in  Christendom. 

She  did  not  hesitate.  She  took  no  thought  for 
her  brother,  she  did  not  remember  her  loved  sisters : 
Ettarre  and  Dorothy  were  their  names,  and  they 
also  suffered  for  their  beauty,  and  for  the  desire  it 
quickened  in  the  hearts  of  men.  Melicent  knew  only 
that  Perion  was  in  captivity  and  might  not  look 
for  aid  from  any  person  living  save  herself. 

She  gathered  in  a  blue  napkin  such  emeralds  as 
would  ransom  a  pope.  She  cut  short  her  marvellous 
hair  and  disguised  herself  in  all  things  as  a  man, 
and  under  cover  of  the  ensuing  night  slipped  from 
the  castle.  At  Manneville  she  found  a  Venetian 
ship  bound  homeward  with  a  cargo  of  swords  and 
armour. 

She  hired  herself  to  the  captain  of  this  vessel  as 
a  servant,  calling  herself  Jocelin  Gaignars.  She 
found  no  time  wherein  to  be  afraid  or  to  grieve 
for  the  estate  she  was  relinquishing,  so  long  as 
Perion  lay  in  danger. 

Thus  the  young  Jocelin,  though  not  without  hard- 
ship and  odd  by-ends  of  adventure  here  irrelevant, 


56  DOMNEI 

came  with  time's  course  into  a  land  of  sunlight 
and  much  wickedness  where  Perion  was. 

There  the  boy  found  in  what  fashion  Perion  was 
living  and  won  the  dearly  purchased  misery  of 
seeing  him,  from  afar,  in  his  deplorable  condition, 
as  Perion  went  through  the  outer  yard  of  Nacu- 
mera  laden  with  chains  and  carrying  great  logs 
toward  the  kitchen.  This  befell  when  Jocelin  had 
come  into  the  hill  country,  where  the  eyrie  of 
Demetrios  blocked  a  crag-hung  valley  as  snugly  as 
a  stone  chokes  a  gutter-pipe. 

Young  Jocelin  had  begged  an  audience  of  this 
heathen  lord  and  had  obtained  it — though  Jocelin 
did  not  know  as  much — with  ominous  facility. 


7- 

How  Perion  Was  Freed 


DEMETRIOS  lay  on  a  divan  within  the 
Court  of  Stars,  through  which  you  passed 
from  the  fortress  into  the  Women's  Garden 
and  the  luxurious  prison  where  he  kept  his  wives. 
This  court  was  circular  in  form  and  was  paved 
with  red  and  yellow  slabs,  laid  alternately,  like  a 
chess-board.  In  the  centre  was  a  fountain,  which 
cast  up  a  tall  thin  jet  of  water.  A  gallery  ex- 
tended around  the  place,  supported  by  columns  that 
had  been  painted  scarlet  and  were  gilded  with  fan- 
tastic designs.  The  walls  were  of  the  colour  of 
claret  and  were  adorned  with  golden  cinque  foils 
regularly  placed.  From  a  distance  they  resembled 
stars,  and  so  gave  the  enclosure  its  name. 

Demetrios  lay  upon  a  long  divan  which  was  cov- 
ered with  crimson,  and  which  encircled  the  court 
entirely,  save  for  the  apertures  of  the  two  entrances. 
Demetrios  was  of  burly  person,  which  he  by  or- 

57 


58  DOMNEI 

dinary,  as  to-day,  adorned  resplendently ;  of  a  stature 
little  above  the  common  size,  and  disproportionately 
broad  as  to  his  chest  and  shoulders.  It  was  ru- 
moured that  he  could  bore  an  apple  through  with 
his  forefinger  and  had  once  killed  a  refractory 
horse  with  a  blow  of  his  naked  fist;  nor  looking 
on  the  man,  did  you  presume  to  question  the  report. 
His  eyes  were  large  and  insolent,  coloured  like 
onyxes;  for  the  rest,  he  had  a  handsome  surly  face 
which  was  disfigured  by  pimples. 

He  did  not  speak  at  all  while  Jocelin  explained 
that  his  errand  was  to  ransom  Perion.  Then,  "At 
what  price?"  Demetrios  said,  without  any  sign  of 
interest;  and  Jocelin,  with  many  encomiums,  dis- 
played his  emeralds. 

"Ay,  they  are  well  enough,"  Demetrios  agreed. 
"But  then  I  have  a  superfluity  of  jewels." 

He  raised  himself  a  little  among  the  cushions, 
and  in  this  moving  the  figured  golden  stuff  in 
which  he  was  clothed  heaved  and  glittered  like  the 
scales  of  a  splendid  monster.  He  leisurely  un- 
fastened the  great  chrysoberyl,  big  as  a  hen's  egg, 
which  adorned  his  fillet. 

"Look  you,  this  is  of  a  far  more  beautiful  green 
than  any  of  your  trinkets.  I  think  it  is  as  valuable 
also,  because  of  its  huge  size.  Moreover,  it  turns 


PERION  IS  FREED  59 

red  by  lamplight — red  as  blood.  That  is  an  ad- 
mirable colour.  And  yet  I  do  not  value  it.  I 
think  I  do  not  value  anything.  So  I  will  make  you 
a  gift  of  this  big  coloured  pebble,  if  you  desire  it, 
because  your  ignorance  amuses  me.  Most  people 
know  Demetrios  is  not  a  merchant.  He  does  not 
buy  and  sell.  That  which  he  has  he  keeps,  and 
that  which  he  desires  he  takes." 

The  boy  was  all  despair.  He  did  not  speak.  He 
was  very  handsome  as  he  stood  in  that  still  place 
where  everything  excepting  him  was  red  and  gold. 

"You  do  not  value  my  poor  chrysoberyl?  You 
value  your  friend  more?  It  is  a  page  out  of  Theo- 
critos — 'when  there  were  golden  men  of  old,  when 
friends  gave  love  for  love.'  And  yet  I  could  have 
sworn —  Come  now,  a  wager,"  purred  Demetrios. 
"Show  your  contempt  of  this  bauble  to  be  as  great 
as  mine  by  throwing  this  shiny  pebble,  say,  into 
the  gallery,  for  the  next  passer-by  to  pick  up,  and 
I  will  credit  your  sincerity.  Do  that  and  I  will  even 
name  my  price  for  Perion." 

The  boy  obeyed  him  without  hesitation.  Turn- 
ing, he  saw  the  horrid  change  in  the  intent  eyes 
of  Demetrios,  and  quailed  before  it.  But  instantly 
that  flare  of  passion  flickered  out. 

Demetrios  gently  said: 


60  DOMNEI 


"A  bargain  is  a  bargain.  My  wives  are  beautiful, 
but  their  caresses  annoy  me  as  much  as  formerly 
they  pleased  me.  I  have  long  thought  it  would 
perhaps  amuse  me  if  I  possessed  a  Christian  wife 
who  had  eyes  like  violets  and  hair  like  gold,  and  a 
plump  white  body.  A  man  tires  very  soon  of  ebony 
and  amber.  .  .  .  Procure  me  such  a  wife  and  I 
will  willingly  release  this  Perion  and  all  his  fellows 
who  are  yet  alive." 

"But,  seignior," — and  the  boy  was  shaken  now, 
— "you  demand  of  me  an  impossibility!" 

"I  am  so  hardy  as  to  think  not.  And  my  reason 
is  that  a  man  throws  from  the  elbow  only,  but  a 
woman  with  her  whole  arm." 

There  fell  a  silence  now. 

"Why,  look  you,  I  deal  fairly,  though.  Were 
such  a  woman  here — Demetrios  of  Anatolia's  guest 
— I  verily  believe  I  would  not  hinder  her  departure, 
as  I  might  easily  do.  For  there  is  not  a  person 
within  many  miles  of  this  place  who  considers  it 
wholesome  to  withstand  me.  Yet  were  this  woman 
purchasable,  I  would  purchase.  And — if  she  re- 
fused— I  would  not  hinder  her  departure;  but  very 
certainly  I  would  put  Perion  to  the  Torment  of  the 
Waterdrops.  It  is  so  droll  to  see  a  man  go  mad 


PERION  IS  FREED  61 

before  your  eyes,  I  think  that  I  would  laugh  and 
quite  forget  the  woman." 

She  said,  "O  God,  I  cry  to  You  for  justice!" 

He  answered: 

"My  good  girl,  in  Nacumera  the  wishes  of  Deme- 
trios  are  justice.  But  we  waste  time.  You  desire 
to  purchase  one  of  my  belongings?  So  be  it.  I 
will  hear  your  offer." 

Just  once  her  hands  had  gripped  each  other. 
Her  arms  fell  now  as  if  they  had  been  drained  of 
life.  She  spoke  in  a  dull  voice. 

"Seignior,  I  offer  Melicent  who  was  a  princess.  I 
cry  a  price,  seignior,  for  red  lips  and  bright  eyes 
and  a  fair  woman's  tender  body  without  any  blem- 
ish. I  cry  a  price  for  youth  and  happiness  and  hon- 
our. These  you  may  have  for  playthings,  seignior, 
with  everything  which  I  possess,  except  my  heart, 
for  that  is  dead." 

Demetrios  asked,  "Is  this  true  speech?" 

She  answered: 

"It  is  as  sure  as  Love  and  Death.  I  know  that 
nothing  is  more  sure  than  these,  and  I  praise  God 
for  my  sure  knowledge." 

He  chuckled,  saying,  "Platitudes  break  no  bones." 

So  on  the  next  day  the  chains  were  filed  from 


62  DOMNEI 

Perion  de  la  Foret  and  all  his  fellows,  save  the 
nine  unfortunates  whom  Demetrios  had  appointed 
to  fight  with  lions  a  month  before  this,  when  he 
had  entertained  the  Soldan  of  Bacharia.  These  men 
were  bathed  and  perfumed  and  richly  clad. 

A  galley  of  the  proconsul's  fleet  conveyed  them 
toward  Christendom  and  set  the  twoscore  slaves  of 
yesterday  ashore  not  far  from  Megaris.  The  cap- 
tain of  the  ralley  on  departure  left  with  Perion  a 
blue  napkin,  wherein  were  wrapped  large  emeralds 
and  a  bit  of  parchment. 

Upon  this  parchment  was  written: 

"Not  these,  but  the  body  of  Melicent,  who  was  once 
a  princess,  purchased  your  bodies.  Yet  these  will  buy 
you  ships  and  men  and  swords  with  which  to  storm  my 
house  where  Melicent  now  is.  Come  if  you  will  and 
fight  with  Demetrios  of  Anatolia  for  that  brave  girl 
who  loved  a  porter  as  all  loyal  men  should  love  their 
Maker  and  customarily  do  not.  I  think  it  would 
amuse  us." 

Then  Perion  stood  by  the  languid  sea  which 
severed  him  from  Melicent  and  cried: 

"O  God,  that  hast  permitted  this  hard  bargain, 
trade  now  with  me !  now  barter  with  me,  O  Father 
of  us  all !  That  which  a  man  has  I  will  give." 

Thus  he  waited  in  the  clear  sunlight,  with  no  more 


PERION  IS  FREED  63 

wavering  in  his  face  than  you  may  find  in  the  next 
statue's  face.  Both  hands  strained  toward  the  blue 
sky,  as  though  he  made  a  vow.  If  so,  he  did  not 
break  it. 

And  now  no  more  of  Perion. 

At  the  same  hour  young  Melicent,  wrapped  all 
about  with  a  flame-coloured  veil  and  crowned  with 
marjoram,  was  led  by  a  spruce  boy  toward  a  thresh- 
old, over  which  Demetrios  lifted  her,  while  many 
people  sang  in  a  strange  tongue.  And  then  she 
paid  her  ransom. 

"Hymen,  O  Hymen!"  they  sang.  "Do  thou  of 
many  names  and  many  temples,  golden  Aphrodite, 
be  propitious  to  this  bridal!  Now  let  him  first 
compute  the  glittering  stars  of  midnight  and  the 
grasshoppers  of  a  summer  day  who  would  count 
the  joys  this  bridal  shall  bring  about!  Hymen,  O 
Hymen,  rejoice  thou  in  this  bridal  1" 


8. 

How  Demetrios  Was  Amused 


NOW  Melicent  abode  in  the  house  of  Deme- 
trios,  whom   she   had   not   seen   since   the 
morning  after  he  had  wedded  her.    A  month 
had  passed.     As  yet  she  could  not  understand  the 
language  of  her  fellow  prisoners,   but  Halaon,   a 
eunuch  who  had  once  served  a  cardinal  in  Tuscany, 
informed  her  the  proconsul  was  in  the  West  Prov- 
inces, where  an  invading  force  had  landed  under 
Ranulph  de  Meschines. 

A  month  had  passed.  She  woke  one  night  from 
dreams  of  Perion — what  else  should  women  dream 
of? — and  found  the  same  Ahasuerus  that  had 
brought  her  news  of  Perion' s  captivity,  so  long  ago, 
attendant  at  her  bedside. 

He  seemed  a  prey  to  some  half-scornful  mirth. 
In  speech,  at  least,  the  man  was  of  entire  discre- 
tion. "The  Splendour  of  the  World  desires  your 
presence,  madame."  Thus  the  Jew  blandly  spoke. 

64 


DEMETRIOS  IS  AMUSED  65 

She  cried,  aghast  at  so  much  treachery,  "You 
had  planned  this!" 

He  answered: 

"I  plan  always.  Oh,  certainly,  I  must  weave 
always  as  the  spider  does.  .  .  .  Meanwhile  time 
passes.  I,  like  you,  am  now  the  servitor  of  Deme- 
trios.  I  am  his  factor  now  at  Calonak.  I  buy  and 
sell.  I  estimate  ounces.  I  earn  my  wages.  Who 
forbids  it?"  Here  the  Jew  shrugged.  "And  to 
conclude,  the  Splendour  of  the  World  desires  your 
presence,  madame." 

He  seemed  to  get  much  joy  of  this  mouth-filling 
periphrasis  as  sneeringly  he  spoke  of  their  common 
master. 

Now  Melicent,  in  a  loose  robe  of  green  Coan  stuff 
shot  through  and  through  with  a  radiancy  like  that 
of  copper,  followed  the  thin,  smiling  Jew  Ahasuerus. 
She  came  thus  with  bare  feet  into  the  Court  of 
Stars,  where  the  proconsul  lay  on  the  divan  as 
though  he  had  not  ever  moved  from  there.  To-night 
he  was  clothed  in  scarlet,  and  barbaric  ornaments 
dangled  from  his  pierced  ears.  These  glittered  now 
that  his  head  moved  a  little  as  he  silently  dismissed 
Ahasuerus  from  the  Court  of  Stars. 

Real  stars  were  overhead,  so  brilliant  and   (it 


66  DOMNEI 

seemed)  so  near  they  turned  the  fountain's  jet  into 
a  spurt  of  melting  silver.  The  moon  was  set,  but 
there  was  a  flaring  lamp  of  iron,  high  as  a  man's 
shoulder,  yonder  where  Demetrios  lay. 

"Stand  close  to  it,  my  wife,"  said  the  proconsul, 
"in  order  that  I  may  see  my  newest  purchase  very 
clearly." 

She  obeyed  him;  and  she  esteemed  the  sacrifice, 
however  unendurable,  which  bought  for  Perion  the 
chance  to  serve  God  and  his  love  for  her  by  valor- 
ous and  commendable  actions  to  be  no  cause  for 
grief. 

"I  think  with  those  old  men  who  sat  upon  the 
walls  of  Troy,"  Demetrios  said,  and  he  laughed  be- 
cause his  voice  had  shaken  a  little.  "Meanwhile 
I  have  returned  from  crucifying  a  hundred  of  your 
fellow  worshippers,"  Demetrios  continued.  His 
speech  had  an  odd  sweetness.  "Ey,  yes,  I  conquered 
at  Yroga.  It  was  a  good  fight.  My  horse's  hoofs 
were  red  at  its  conclusion.  My  surviving  oppo- 
nents I  consider  to  have  been  deplorable  fools  when 
they  surrendered,  for  people  die  less  painfully  in 
battle.  There  was  one  fellow,  a  Franciscan  monk, 
who  hung  six  hours  upon  a  palm  tree,  always  turn- 
ing his  head  from  one  side  to  the  other.  It  was 
amusing." 


DEMETRIOS  IS  AMUSED  67 

She  answered  nothing. 

"And  I  was  wondering  always  how  I  would 
feel  were  you  nailed  in  his  place.  It  was  curious 
I  should  have  thought  of  you.  .  .  .  But  your  white 
flesh  is  like  the  petals  of  a  flower.  I  suppose  it  is 
as  readily  destructible.  I  think  you  would  not  long 
endure." 

"I  pray  God  hourly  that  I  may  not!"  said  tense 
Melicent. 

He  was  pleased  to  have  wrung  one  cry  of  anguish 
from  this  lovely  effigy.  He  motioned  her  to  him 
and  laid  one  hand  upon  her  naked  breast.  He  gave 
a  gesture  of  distaste. 

Demetrios  said: 

"No,  you  are  not  afraid.  However,  you  are 
very  beautiful.  I  thought  that  you  would  please 
me  more  when  your  gold  hair  had  grown  a  trifle 
longer.  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  so  beauti- 
ful as  golden  hair.  Its  beauty  weathers  even  the 
commendation  of  poets." 

No  power  of  motion  seemed  to  be  in  this  white 
girl,  but  certainly  you  could  detect  no  fear.  Her 
clinging  robe  shone  like  an  opal  in  the  lamplight, 
her  body,  only  partly  veiled,  was  enticing,  and  her 
visage  was  very  lovely.  Her  wide-open  eyes  im- 
plored you,  but  only  as  those  of  a  trapped  animal 


68  DOMNEI 

beseech  the  mercy  for  which  it  does  not  really  hope. 
Thus  Melicent  waited  in  the  clear  lamplight,  with 
no  more  wavering  in  her  face  than  you  may  find 
in  the  next  statue's  face. 

In  the  man's  heart  woke  now  some  comprehen- 
sion of  the  nature  of  her  love  for  Perion,  of  that 
high  and  alien  madness  which  dared  to  make  of 
Demetrios  of  Anatolia's  will  an  unavoidable  dis- 
comfort, and  no  more.  The  prospect  was  alluring. 
The  proconsul  began  to  chuckle  as  water  pours  from 
a  jar,  and  the  gold  in  his  ears  twinkled. 

"Decidedly  I  shall  get  much  mirth  of  you.  Go 
back  to  your  own  rooms.  I  had  thought  the  world 
afforded  no  adversary  and  no  game  worthy  of 
Demetrios.  I  have  found  both.  Therefore,  go  back 
to  your  own  rooms,"  he  gently  said. 


9- 

How  Time  Sped  in  Heathenry 


ON  the  next  day  Melicent  was  removed  to 
more  magnificent  apartments,  and  she  was 
lodged  in  a  lofty  and  spacious  pavilion, 
which  had  three  porticoes  builded  of  marble  and 
carved  teakwood  and  Andalusian  copper.  Her 
rooms  were  spread  with  gold-worked  carpets  and 
hung  with  tapestries  and  brocaded  silks  figured  with 
all  n.anner  of  beasts  and  birds  in  their  proper 
colours.  Such  was  the  girl's  home  now,  where  only 
happiness  was  denied  to  her.  Many  slaves  attended 
Melicent,  and  she  lacked  for  nothing  in  luxury  and 
riches  and  things  of  price ;  and  thereafter  she  abode 
at  Nacumera,  to  all  appearances,  as  the  favourite 
among  the  proconsul's  wives. 

It  must  be  recorded  of  Demetrios  that  henceforth 
he  scrupulously  demurred  even  to  touch  her.  "I 
have  purchased  your  body,"  he  proudly  said,  "and 
I  have  taken  seizin.  I  find  I  do  not  care  for  any- 
thing which  can  be  purchased." 

69 


70  DOMNEI 

It  may  be  that  the  man  was  never  sane;  it  is 
indisputable  that  the  mainspring  of  his  least  action 
was  an  inordinate  pride.  Here  he  had  stumbled  upon 
something  which  made  of  Demetrios  of  Anatolia  a 
temporary  discomfort,  and  which  bedwarfed  the  ut- 
most reach  of  his  ill-doing  into  equality  with  the 
molestations  of  a  house-fly;  and  perception  of  this 
fact  worked  in  Demetrios  like  a  poisonous  ferment. 
To  beg  or  once  again  to  pillage  he  thought  equally 
unworthy  of  himself.  "Let  us  have  patience!"  It 
was  not  easily  said  so  long  as  this  fair  Prankish 
woman  dared  to  entertain  a  passion  which  Deme- 
trios could  not  comprehend,  and  of  which  Demetrios 
was,  and  knew  himself  to  be,  incapable. 

A  connoisseur  of  passions,  he  resented  such  belit- 
tlement  tempestuously;  and  he  heaped  every  luxury 
upon  Melicent,  because,  as  he  assured  himself,  the 
heart  of  every  woman  is  alike. 

He  had  his  theories,  his  cunning,  and,  chief  of 
all,  an  appreciation  of  her  beauty,  as  his  abettors. 
She  had  her  memories  and  her  clean  heart.  They 
duelled  thus  accoutred. 

Meanwhile  his  other  wives  peered  from  screened 
alcoves  at  these  two  and  duly  hated  Melicent.  Upon 
no  less  than  three  occasions  did  Callistion — the  first 


TIME  SPEEDS  71 


wife  of  the  proconsul  and  the  mother  of  his  elder 
son — attempt  the  life  of  Melicent;  and  thrice  Deme- 
trios  spared  the  woman  at  Melicent's  entreaty.  For 
Melicent  (since  she  loved  Perion)  could  understand 
that  it  was  love  of  Demetrios,  rather  than  hate  of 
her,  which  drove  the  Dacian  virago  to  extremities. 

Then  one  day  about  noon  Demetrios  came 
unheralded  into  Melicent's  resplendent  prison. 
Through  an  aisle  of  painted  pillars  he  came  to  her, 
striding  with  unwonted  quickness,  glittering  as  he 
moved.  His  robe  this  day  was  scarlet,  the  colour 
he  chiefly  affected.  Gold  glowed  upon  his  forehead, 
gold  dangled  from  his  ears,  and  about  his  throat 
was  a  broad  collar  of  gold  and  rubies.  At  his  side 
was  a  cross-handled  sword,  in  a  scabbard  of  blue 
leather,  curiously  ornamented. 

"Give  thanks,  my  wife,"  Demetrios  said,  "that 
you  are  beautiful.  For  beauty  was  ever  the  spur 
of  valour."  Then  quickly,  joyously,  he  told  her  of 
how  a  fleet  equipped  by  the  King  of  Cyprus  had 
been  despatched  against  the  province  of  Demetrios, 
and  of  how  among  the  invaders  were  Perion  of 
the  Forest  and  his  Free  Companions.  "Ey,  yes, 
my  porter  has  returned.  I  ride  instantly  for  the 


72  DOMNEI 

coast  to  greet  him  with  appropriate  welcome.  I 
pray  heaven  it  is  no  sluggard  or  weakling  that  is 
come  out  against  me." 

Proudly  Melicent  replied: 

"There  comes  against  you  a  champion  of  noted 
deeds,  a  courteous  and  hardy  gentleman,  pre-emi- 
nent at  swordplay.  There  was  never  any  man  more 
ready  than  Perion  to  break  a  lance  or  shatter  a 
shield,  or  more  eager  to  succour  the  helpless  and 
put  to  shame  all  cowards  and  traitors." 

Demetrios  dryly  said: 

"I  do  not  question  that  the  virtues  of  my  porter 
are  innumerable.  Therefore  we  will  not  attempt 
to  catalogue  them.  Now  Ahasuerus  reports  that 
even  before  you  came  to  tempt  me  with  your  paltry 
emeralds  you  once  held  the  life  of  Perion  in  your 
hands?"  Demetrios  unfastened  his  sword.  He 
grasped  the  hand  of  Melicent,  and  laid  it  upon  the 
scabbard.  "And  what  do  you  hold  now,  my  wife? 
You  hold  the  death  of  Perion.  I  take  the  antithesis 
to  be  neat." 

She  answered  nothing.  Her  seeming  indifference 
angered  him.  Demetrios  wrenched  the  sword  from 
its  scabbard,  with  a  hard  violence  that  made  Meli- 
cent recoil.  He  showed  the  blade  all  covered  with 
graved  symbols  of  which  she  could  make  nothing. 


TIME  SPEEDS  73 


"This  is  Flamberge,"  said  the  proconsul;  "the 
weapon  which  was  the  pride  and  bane  of  my  father, 
famed  Miramon  Lluagor,  because  it  was  the  sword 
which  Galas  made,  in  the  old  time's  heyday,  for  un- 
conquerable Charlemaigne.  Clerks  declare  it  is  a 
magic  weapon  and  that  the  man  who  wields  it  is 
always  unconquerable.  I  do  not  know.  I  think  it 
is  as  difficult  to  believe  in  sorcery  as  it  is  to  be  en- 
tirely sure  that  all  we  know  is  not  the  sorcery  of  a 
drunken  wizard.  I  very  potently  believe,  however, 
that  with  this  sword  I  shall  kill  Perion." 

Melicent  had  plenty  of  patience,  but  astonishingly 
little,  it  seemed,  for  this  sort  of  speech.  "I  think 
that  you  talk  foolishly,  seignior.  And,  other  matters 
apart,  it  is  manifest  that  you  yourself  concede 
Perion  to  be  the  better  swordsman,  since  you  re- 
quire to  be  abetted  by  sorcery  before  you  dare  to 
face  him." 

"So,  so!"  Demetrios  said,  in  a  sort  of  grinding 
whisper,  "you  think  that  I  am  not  the  equal  of 
this  long-legged  fellow!  You  would  think  other- 
wise if  I  had  him  here.  You  will  think  otherwise 
when  I  have  killed  him  with  my  naked  hands.  Oh, 
very  soon  you  will  think  otherwise." 

He  snarled,  rage  choking  him,  flung  the  sword 
at  her  feet  and  quitted  her  without  any  leave- 


74  DOMNEI 

taking.  He  had  ridden  three  miles  from  Nacumera 
before  he  began  to  laugh.  He  perceived  that  Meli- 
cent  at  least  respected  sorcery,  and  had  tricked  him 
out  of  Flamberge  by  playing  upon  his  tetchy  vanity. 
Her  adroitness  pleased  him. 

Demetrios  did  not  laugh  when  he  found  the 
Christian  fleet  had  been  ingloriously  repulsed  at  sea 
by  the  Emir  of  Arsuf,  and  had  never  effected  a 
landing.  Demetrios  picked  a  quarrel  with  the  vic- 
torious admiral  and  killed  the  marplot  in  a  public 
duel,  but  that  was  inadequate  comfort 

"However,"  the  proconsul  reassured  himself,  "if 
my  wife  reports  at  all  truthfully  as  to  this  Perion's 
nature  it  is  certain  that  this  Perion  will  come  again." 
Then  Demetrios  went  into  the  sacred  grove  upon 
the  hillsides  south  of  Quesiton  and  made  an  offering 
of  myrtle-branches,  rose-leaves  and  incense  to  Aph- 
rodite of  Colias. 


10. 

How  Demetrios  Wooed 


AHASUERUS  came  and  went  at  will.    Noth- 
ing was  known  concerning  this  soft-treading 
furtive  man  except  by  the  proconsul,  who 
had  no  confidants.    By  his  decree  Ahasuerus  was  an 
honoured  guest  at  Nacumera.    And  always  the  Jew's 
eyes  when  Melicent  was  near  him  were  as  expres- 
sionless as  the  eyes  of  a  snake,  which  do  not  ever 
change. 

Once  she  told  Demetrios  that  she  feared  Ahasu- 
erus. 

"But  I  do  not  fear  him,  Melicent,  though  I  have 
larger  reason.    For  I  alone  of  all  men  living  know 
the  truth  concerning  this  same  Jew.    Therefore,  it 
amuses  me  to  think  that  he,  who  served  my  wizard 
father  in  a  very  different  fashion,  is  to-day  my 
factor  and  ciphers  over  my  accounts." 
Demetrios  laughed,  and  had  the  Jew  summoned. 
75 


76  DOMNEI 

This  was  in  the  Women's  Garden,  where  the  pro- 
consul sat  with  Melicent  in  a  little  domed  pavilion 
of  stone- work  which  was  gilded  with  red  gold  and 
crowned  with  a  cupola  of  alabaster.  Its  pavement 
was  of  transparent  glass,  under  which  were  clear 
running  waters  wherein  swam  red  and  yellow  fish. 

Demetrios  said : 

"It  appears  that  you  are  a  formidable  person, 
Ahasuerus.  My  wife  here  fears  you." 

"Splendour  of  the  Age,"  returned  Ahasuerus, 
quietly,  "it  is  notorious  that  women  have  long  hair 
and  short  wits.  There  is  no  need  to  fear  a  Jew. 
The  Jew,  I  take  it,  was  created  in  order  that  chil- 
dren might  evince  their  playfulness  by  stoning  him, 
the  honest  show  their  common-sense  by  robbing  him, 
and  the  religious  display  their  piety  by  burning  him. 
Who  forbids  it?" 

"Ey,  but  my  wife  is  a  Christian  and  in  conse- 
quence worships  a  Jew."  Demetrios  reflected.  His 
dark  eyes  twinkled.  "What  is  your  opinion  con- 
cerning this  other  Jew,  Ahasuerus  ?" 

"I  know  that  He  was  the  Messiah,  Lord." 

"And  yet  you  do  not  worship  Him." 

The  Jew  said : 

"It  was  not  altogether  worship  He  desired.    He 


DEMETRIOS  WOOES  77 

asked  that  men  should  love  Him.  He  does  not  ask 
love  of  me." 

"I  find  that  an  obscure  saying,"  Demetrios  con- 
sidered. 

"It  is  a  true  saying,  King  of  Kings.  In  time  it 
will  be  made  plain.  That  time  is  not  yet  come.  I 
used  to  pray  it  would  come  soon.  Now  I  do  not 
pray  any  longer.  I  only  wait." 

Demetrios  tugged  at  his  chin,  his  eyes  narrowed, 
meditating.  He  laughed. 

Demetrios  said: 

"It  is  no  affair  of  mine.  What  am  I  that  I  am 
called  upon  to  have  prejudices  concerning  the  uni- 
verse? It  is  highly  probable  there  are  gods  of 
some  sort  or  another,  but  I  do  not  so  far  flatter 
myself  as  to  consider  that  any  possible  god  would 
be  at  all  interested  in  my  opinion  of  him.  In  any 
event,  I  am  Demetrios.  Let  the  worst  come,  and 
in  whatever  baleful  underworld  I  find  myself  im- 
prisoned I  shall  maintain  myself  there  in  a  manner 
not  unworthy  of  Demetrios."  The  proconsul 
shrugged  at  this  point.  "I  do  not  find  you  amus- 
ing, Ahasuerus.  You  may  go." 

"I  hear,  and  I  obey,"  the  Jew  replied.  He  went 
away  patiently. 


78  DOMNEI 

Then  Demetrios  turned  toward  Melicent,  rejoic- 
ing that  his  chattel  had  golden  hair  and  was  comely 
beyond  comparison  with  all  other  women  he  had 
ever  seen. 

Said  Demetrios : 

"I  love  you,  Melicent,  and  you  do  not  love  me. 
Do  not  be  offended  because  my  speech  is  harsh,  for 
even  though  I  know  my  candour  is  distasteful  I 
must  speak  the  truth.  You  have  been  obdurate  too 
long,  denying  Kypris  what  is  due  to  her.  I  think 
that  your  brain  is  giddy  because  of  too  much  exult- 
ing in  the  magnificence  of  your  body  and  in  the 
number  of  men  who  have  desired  it  to  their  own 
hurt.  I  concede  your  beauty,  yet  what  will  it  matter 
a  hundred  years  from  now  ? 

"I  admit  that  my  refrain  is  old.  But  it  will  pres- 
ently take  on  a  more  poignant  meaning,  because  a 
hundred  years  from  now  you — even  you,  dear 
Melicent! — and  all  the  loveliness  which  now  causes 
me  to  estimate  life  as  a  light  matter  in  comparison 
with  your  love,  will  be  only  a  bone  or  two.  Your 
lustrous  eyes,  which  are  now  more  beautiful  than 
it  is  possible  to  express,  will  be  unsavoury  holes  and 
a  worm  will  crawl  through  them ;  and  what  will  it 
matter  a  hundred  years  from  now? 

"A   hundred   years   from   now   should    anyone 


DEMETRIOS  WOOES  79 

break  open  our  gilded  tomb,  he  will  find  Melicent 
to  be  no  more  admirable  than  Demetrios.  One  skull 
is  like  another,  and  is  as  lightly  split  with  a  mattock. 
You  will  be  as  ugly  as  I,  and  nobody  will  be  thinking 
of  your  eyes  and  hair.  Hail,  rain  and  dew  will 
drench  us  both  impartially  when  I  lie  at  your  side, 
as  I  intend  to  do,  for  a  hundred  years  and  yet  an- 
other hundred  years.  You  need  not  frown,  for  what 
will  it  matter  a  hundred  years  from  now? 

"Melicent,  I  offer  love  and  a  life  that  derides  the 
folly  of  all  other  manners  of  living;  and  even  if 
you  deny  me,  what  will  it  matter  a  hundred  years 
from  now  ?" 

His  face  was  contorted,  his  speech  had  fervent 
bitterness,  for  even  while  he  wooed  this  woman 
the  man  internally  was  raging  over  his  own  in- 
fatuation. 

And  Melicent  answered: 

"There  can  be  no  question  of  love  between  us, 
seignior.  You  purchased  my  body.  My  body  is  at 
your  disposal  under  God's  will." 

Demetrios  sneered,  his  ardours  cooled.  He  said, 
"I  have  already  told  you,  my  girl,  I  do  not  care  for 
that  which  can  be  purchased." 

In  such  fashion  Melicent  abode  among  these 


80  DOMNEI 


odious  persons  as  a  lily  which  is  rooted  in  mire. 
She  was  a  prisoner  always,  and  when  Demetrios 
came  to  Nacumera — which  fell  about  irregularly, 
for  now  arose  much  fighting  between  the  Christians 
and  the  pagans — a  gem  which  he  uncased,  admired, 
curtly  exulted  in,  and  then,  jeering  at  those  hot 
wishes  in  his  heart,  locked  up  untouched  when  he 
went  back  to  warfare. 

To  her  the  man  was  uniformly  kind,  if  with  a 
sort  of  sneer  she  could  not  understand;  and  he 
pillaged  an  infinity  of  Genoese  and  Venetian  ships 
— which  were  notoriously  the  richliest  laden — of 
jewels,  veils,  silks,  furs,  embroideries  and  figured 
stuffs,  wherewith  to  enhance  the  comeliness  of 
Melicent.  It  seemed  an  all-engulfing  madness  with 
this  despot  daily  to  aggravate  his  fierce  desire  of 
her,  to  nurture  his  obsession,  so  that  he  might  glory 
in  the  consciousness  of  treading  down  no  puny  ad- 
versary. 

Pride  spurred  him  on  as  witches  ride  their  dupes 
to  a  foreknown  destruction.  "Let  us  have  patience," 
he  would  say. 

Meanwhile  his  other  wives  peered  from  screened 
alcoves  at  these  two  and  duly  hated  Melicent.  "Let 
us  have  patience !"  they  said,  also,  but  with  a  mean- 
ing that  was  more  sinister. 


PART  THREE 
DEMETRIOS 

Of  how  Dame  Melicenfs  fond  lovers  go 
As  comrades,  working  each  his  fellow's  woe: 
Each  hath  unhorsed  the  other  of  the  twain, 
And  knoweth  that  nowhither  'twixt  Ukraine 
And  Ormus  roameth  any  lion's  son 
More  eager  in  the  hunt  than  Perion, 
Nor  any  viper's  sire  more  venomous 
Through  jealous  hurt  than  is  Demetrios. 


II. 

How  Time  Sped  with  Perion 


IT  is  a  tale  which  they  narrate  in  Poictesme,  tell- 
ing of  what  befell  Perion  de  la  Foret  after  he 
had  been  ransomed  out  of  heathenry.    They  tell 
how  he  took  service  with  the  King  of  Cyprus.    And 
the  tale  tells  how  the  King  of  Cyprus  was  defeated 
at  sea  by  the  Emir  of  Arsuf ;  and  how  Perion  came 
unhurt  from  that  battle,  and  by  land  relieved  the 
garrison  at  Japhe,  and  was  ennobled  therefor;  and 
was  afterward  called  the  Comte  de  la  Foret. 

Then  the  King  of  Cyprus  made  peace  with  heath- 
endom, and  Perion  left  him.  Now  Perion's  skill  in 
warfare  was  leased  to  whatsoever  lord  would  dare 
contend  against  Demetrios  and  the  proconsul's  magic 
sword  Flamberge :  and  Perion  of  the  Forest  did  not 
inordinately  concern  himself  as  to  the  merits  of 
finy  quarrel  because  of  which  battalions  died,  so  long 
as  he  fought  toward  Melicent.  Demetrios  was 
pleased,  and  thrilled  with  the  heroic  joy  of  an  ath- 

83 


84  DOMNEI 

lete  who  finds  that  he  unwittingly  has  grappled  with 
his  equal. 

So  the  duel  between  these  two  dragged  on  with 
varying  fortunes,  and  the  years  passed,  and  neither 
duellist  had  conquered  as  yet.  Then  King  Theo- 
doret,  third  of  that  name  to  rule,  and  once  (as  you 
have  heard)  a  wooer  of  Dame  Melicent,  declared 
a  crusade;  and  Perion  went  to  him  at  Lacre  Kai. 
It  was  in  making  this  journey,  they  say,  that  Perion 
passed  through  Pseudopolis,  and  had  speech  there 
with  Queen  Helen,  the  delight  of  gods  and  men: 
and  Perion  conceded  this  Queen  was  well-enough 
to  look  at. 

"She  reminds  me,  indeed,  of  that  Dame  Melicent 
whom  I  serve  in  this  world,  and  trust  to  serve  in 
Paradise,"  said  Perion.  "But  Dame  Melicent  has  a 
mole  on  her  left  cheek." 

"That  is  a  pity,"  said  an  attendant  lord.  "A 
mole  disfigures  a  pretty  woman." 

"I  was  speaking,  messire,  of  Dame  Melicent." 

"Even  so,"  the  lord  replied,  "a  mole  is  a  blemish." 

"I  cannot  permit  these  observations,"  said  Perion. 
So  they  fought,  and  Perion  killed  his  opponent,  and 
left  Pseudopolis  that  afternoon. 

Such  was  Perion's  way. 

He  came  unhurt  to  King  Theodoret,  who  at  once 


TIME  SPEEDS  85 


recognised  in  the  famous  Comte  de  la  Foret  the 
former  Vicomte  de  Puysange,  but  gave  no  sign  of 
such  recognition. 

"Heaven  chooses  its  own  instruments,"  the  pious 
King  reflected:  "and  this  swaggering  Comte  de  la 
Foret,  who  affects  so  many  names,  has  also  the 
name  of  being  a  warrior  without  any  peer  in 
Christendom.  Let  us  first  conquer  this  infamous 
proconsul,  this  adversary  of  our  Redeemer,  and 
then  we  shall  see.  It  may  be  that  heaven  will  then 
permit  me  to  detect  this  Comte  de  la  Foret  in  some 
particularly  abominable  heresy.  For  this  long- 
legged  ruffian  looks  like  a  schismatic,  and  would 
singularly  grace  a  rack." 

So  King  Theodoret  kissed  Perion  upon  both 
cheeks,  and  created  him  generalissimo  of  King 
Theodoret's  forces.  It  was  upon  St.  George's  day 
that  Perion  set  sail  with  thirty-four  ships  of  great 
dimensions  and  admirable  swiftness. 

"Do  you  bring  me  back  Demetrios  in  chains,"  said 
the  King,  fondling  Perion  at  parting,  "and  all  that 
I  have  is  yours." 

"I  mean  to  bring  back  my  stolen  wife,  Dame 
Melicent,"  was  Perion's  reply:  "and  if  I  can  man- 
age it  I  shall  also  bring  you  this  Demetrios,  in  re- 
turn for  lending  me  these  ships  and  soldiers." 


86  DOMNEI 

"Do  you  think,"  the  King  asked,  peevishly,  "that 
monarchs  nowadays  fit  out  armaments  to  replevin  a 
woman  who  is  no  longer  young,  and  who  was  al- 
ways stupid?" 

"I  cannot  permit  these  observations — "  said  Pe- 
rion. 

Theodoret  hastily  explained  that  his  was  merely  a 
general  observation,  without  any  personal  bearing. 


12. 

How  Demetrios  Was  Taken 


THUS  it  was  that  war  awoke  and  raged  about 
the  province  of  Demetrios  as  tirelessly  as 
waves  lapped  at  its  shores. 

Then,  after  many  ups  and  downs  of  carnage,1 
Perion  surprised  the  galley  of  Demetrios  while  the 
proconsul  slept  at  anchor  in  his  own  harbour  of 
Quesiton.  Demetrios  fought  nakedly  against  ac- 
coutred soldiers  and  had  killed  two  of  them  with 
his  hands  before  he  could  be  quieted  by  an  admir- 
ing Perion. 

Demetrios  by  Perion's  order  was  furnished  with 
a  sword  of  ordinary  attributes,  and  Perion  ridded 
himself  of  all  defensive  armour.  The  two  met  like 
an  encounter  of  tempests,  and  in  the  outcome 
Demetrios  was  wounded  so  that  he  lay  insensible. 

1  Nicolas  de  Caen  gives  here  a  minute  account  of  the  mili- 
tary and  naval  evolutions,  with  a  fullness  that  verges  upon 
prolixity.  It  appears  expedient  to  omit  all  this. 

87 


88  DOMNEI 

Demetrios  was  taken  as  a  prisoner  toward  the  do- 
mains of  King  Theodoret. 

"Only  you  are  my  private  capture,"  said  Pe- 
rion ;  "conquered  by  my  own  hand  and  in  fair  fight. 
Now  I  am  unwilling  to  insult  the  most  valiant  war- 
rior whom  I  have  known  by  valuing  him  too  cheaply, 
and  I  accordingly  fix  your  ransom  as  the  person 
of  Dame  Melicent." 

Demetrios  bit  his  nails. 

"Needs  must,"  he  said  at  last.  "It  is  unnecessary 
to  inform  you  that  when  my  property  is  taken  from 
me  I  shall  endeavour  to  regain  it.  I  shall,  before 
the  year  is  out,  lay  waste  whatever  kingdom  it  is 
that  harbours  you.  Meanwhile  I  warn  you  it  is 
necessary  to  be  speedy  in  this  ransoming.  My  other 
wives  abhor  the  Prankish  woman  who  has  sup- 
planted them  in  my  esteem.  My  son  Orestes,  who 
succeeds  me,  will  be  guided  by  his  mother.  Callis- 
tion  has  thrice  endeavoured  to  kill  Melicent.  If 
any  harm  befalls  me,  Callistion  to  all  intent  will 
reign  in  Nacumera,  and  she  will  not  be  satisfied 
with  mere  assassination.  I  cannot  guess  what  tor- 
ment Callistion  will  devise,  but  it  will  be  no  child's 
play-" 

"Hah,  infamy!"  cried  Perion.  He  had  learned 
long  ago  how  cunning  the  heathen  were  in  such 
cruelties,  and  so  he  shuddered. 


DEMETRIOS  IS  TAKEN 


Demetrios  was  silent.  He,  too,  was  frightened, 
because  this  despot  knew — and  none  knew  better 
— that  in  his  lordly  house  far  oversea  Callistion 
would  find  equipment  for  a  hundred  curious  tor- 
tures. 

"It  has  been  difficult  for  me  to  tell  you  this," 
Demetrios  then  said,  "because  it  savours  of  an  ap- 
peal to  spare  me.  I  think  you  will  have  gleaned, 
however,  from  our  former  encounters,  that  I  am 
not  unreasonably  afraid  of  death.  Also  I  think  that 
you  love  Melicent.  For  the  rest,  there  is  no  person 
in  Nacumera  so  untutored  as  to  cross  my  least 
desire  until  my  death  is  triply  proven.  Accordingly, 
I  who  am  Demetrios  am  willing  to  entreat  an  oath 
that  you  will  not  permit  Theodoret  to  kill  me." 

"I  swear  by  God  and  all  the  laws  of  Rome — " 
cried  Perion. 

"Ey,  but  I  am  not  very  popular  in  Rome," 
Demetrios  interrupted.  "I  would  prefer  that  you 
swore  by  your  love  for  Melicent.  I  would  prefer 
an  oath  which  both  of  us  may  understand,  and  I 
know  of  none  other." 

So  Perion  swore  as  Demetrios  requested,  and 
set  about  the  conveyance  of  Demetrios  into  King 
Theodoret's  realm. 


How  They  Praised  Melicent 


THE  conqueror  and  the  conquered  sat  together 
upon  the  prow  of  Perion's  ship.     It  was  a 
warm,  clear  night,  so  brilliant  that  the  stars 
were  invisible.    Perion  sighed.    Demetrios  inquired 
the  reason. 
Perion  said : 

"It  is  the  memory  of  a  fair  and  noble  lady, 
Messire  Demetrios,  that  causes  me  to  heave  a  sigh 
from  my  inmost  heart.  I  cannot  forget  that  loveli- 
ness which  had  no  parallel.  Pardieu,  her  eyes  were 
amethysts,  her  lips  were  red  as  the  berries  of  a  holly- 
tree.  Her  hair  blazed  in  the  light,  bright  as  the  sun- 
flower glows;  her  skin  was  whiter  than  milk;  the 
down  of  a  fledgling  bird  was  not  more  grateful  to  the 
touch  than  were  her  hands.  There  was  never  any 
person  more  delightful  to  gaze  upon,  and  whoso- 
ever beheld  her  forthwith  desired  to  render  love 
and  service  to  Dame  Melicent." 

90 


THEY  PRAISE  MELICENT  91 

Demetrios  gave  his  customary  lazy  shrug.  De- 
metrios  said: 

"She  is  still  a  brightly-coloured  creature,  moves 
gracefully,  has  a  sweet,  drowsy  voice,  and  is  as  soft 
to  the  touch  as  rabbit's  fur.  Therefore,  it  is  im- 
perative that  one  of  us  must  cut  the  other's  throat. 
The  deduction  is  perfectly  logical.  Yet  I  do  not 
know  that  my  love  for  her  is  any  greater  than  my 
hatred.  I  rage  against  her  patient  tolerance  of  me, 
and  I  am  often  tempted  to  disfigure,  mutilate,  even 
to  destroy  this  colourful,  stupid  woman,  who  makes 
me  wofully  ridiculous  in  my  own  eyes.  I  shall  be 
happier  when  death  has  taken  the  woman  who 
ventures  to  deal  in  this  fashion  with  Demetrios." 

Said  Perion: 

"When  I  first  saw  Dame  Melicent  the  sea  was 
languid,  as  if  outworn  by  vain  endeavours  to  rival 
the  purple  of  her  eyes.  Sea-birds  were  adrift  in 
the  air,  very  close  to  her,  and  their  movements  were 
less  graceful  than  hers.  She  was  attired  in  a  robe 
of  white  silk,  and  about  her  wrists  were  heavy  bands 
of  silver.  A  tiny  wind  played  truant  in  order  to 
caress  her  unplaited  hair,  because  the  wind  was 
more  hardy  than  I,  and  dared  to  love  her.  I  did 
not  think  of  love,  I  thought  only  of  the  noble  deeds 
I  might  have  done  and  had  not  done.  I  thought  of 


92  DOMNEI 

f* 

my  unworthiness,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  my  soul 
writhed  like  an  eel  in  sunlight,  a  naked,  despicable 
thing,  that  was  unworthy  to  render  any  love  and 
service  to  Dame  Melicent." 

Demetrios  said: 

"When  I  first  saw  the  girl  she  knew  herself  en- 
trapped, her  body  mine,  her  life  dependent  on  my 
whim.  She  waved  aside  such  petty  inconveniences, 
bade  them  await  an  hour  when  she  had  leisure  to 
consider  them,  because  nothing  else  was  of  any  im- 
portance so  long  as  my  porter  went  in  chains.  I 
was  an  obstacle  to  her  plans  and  nothing  more;  a 
pebble  in  her  shoe  would  have  perturbed  her  about 
as  much  as  I  did.  Here  at  last,  I  thought,  is  gen- 
uine common-sense — a  clear-headed  decision  as  to 
your  actual  desire,  apart  from  man-taught  ethics, 
and  fearless  purchase  of  your  desire  at  any  cost. 
There  is  something  not  unakin  to  me,  I  reflected,  in 
the  girl  who  ventures  to  deal  in  this  fashion  with 
Demetrios." 

Said  Perion: 

"Since  she  permits  me  to  serve  her,  I  may  not 
serve  unworthily.  To-morrow  I  shall  set  new 
armies  afield.  To-morrow  it  will  delight  me  to  see 
their  tents  rise  in  your  meadows,  Messire  Demetrios, 


THEY  PRAISE  MELICENT  93 

and  to  see  our  followers  meet  in  clashing  combat, 
by  hundreds  and  thousands,  so  mightily  that  men 
will  sing  of  it  when  we  are  gone.  To-morrow  one 
of  us  must  kill  the  other.  To-night  we  drink  our 
wine  in  amity.  I  have  not  time  to  hate  you,  I  have 
not  time  to  like  or  dislike  any  living  person,  I  must 
devote  all  faculties  that  heaven  gave  me  to  the  love 
and  service  of  Dame  Melicent." 

Demetrios  said: 

"To-night  we  babble  to  the  stars  and  dream  vain 
dreams  as  other  fools  have  done  before  us.  To- 
morrow rests — perhaps — with  heaven;  but,  depend 
upon  it,  Messire  de  la  Foret,  whatever  we  may  do 
to-morrow  will  be  foolishly  performed,  because  we 
are  both  besotted  by  bright  eyes  and  lips  and  hair. 
I  trust  to  find  our  antics  laughable.  Yet  there  is 
that  in  me  which  is  murderous  when  I  reflect  that 
you  and  she  do  not  dislike  me.  It  is  the  distasteful 
truth  that  neither  of  you  considers  me  to  be  worth 
the  trouble.  I  find  such  conduct  irritating,  because 
no  other  persons  have  ever  ventured  to  deal  in  this 
fashion  with  Demetrios." 

"Demetrios,  already  your  antics  are  laughable,  for 
you  pass  blindly  by  the  revelation  of  heaven's  splen- 
dour in  heaven's  masterwork;  you  ignore  the 


94  DOMNEI 

miracle;  and  so  do  you  find  only  the  stings  of  the 
flesh  where  I  find  joy  in  rendering  love  and  service 
to  Dame  Melicent." 

"Perion,  it  is  you  that  play  the  fool,  in  not  recog- 
nising that  heaven  is  inaccessible  and  doubtful. 
But  clearer  eyes  perceive  the  not  at  all  doubtful 
dullness  of  wit,  and  the  gratifying  accessibility  of 
every  woman  when  properly  handled, — yes,  even 
of  her  who  dares  to  deal  in  this  fashion  with 
Demetrios." 

Thus  they  would  sit  together,  nightly,  upon  the 
prow  of  Perion's  ship  and  speak  against  each  other 
in  the  manner  of  a  Tenson,  as  these  two  rhapsodised 
of  Melicent  until  the  stars  grew  lustreless  before 
the  sun. 


How  Perion  Braved  Theodoret 


THE  city  of  Megaris  (then  Theodoret's  capi- 
tal) was  ablaze  with  bonfires  on  the  night 
that  the  Comte  de  la  Foret  entered  it  at  the 
head  of  his  forces.  Demetrios,  meanly  clothed,  his 
hands  tied  behind  him,  trudged  sullenly  beside  his 
conqueror's  horse.  Yet  of  the  two  the  gloomier 
face  showed  below  the  count's  coronet,  for  Perion 
did  not  relish  the  impendent  interview  with  King 
Theodoret.  They  came  thus  amid  much  shouting 
to  the  Hotel  d'Ebelin,  their  assigned  quarters,  and 
slept  there. 

Next  morning,  about  the  hour  of  prime,  two  men- 
at-arms  accompanied  a  fettered  Demetrios  into  the 
presence  of  King  Theodoret.  Perion  of  the  Forest 
preceded  them.  He  pardonably  swaggered,  in  spite 
of  his  underlying  uneasiness,  for  this  last  feat,  as 
he  could  not  ignore,  was  a  performance  which  Chris- 
tendom united  to  applaud. 

95 


96  DOMNEI 

They  came  thus  into  a  spacious  chamber,  very 
inadequately  lighted.  The  walls  were  unhewn 
stone.  There  was  but  one  window,  of  uncoloured 
glass;  and  it  was  guarded  by  iron  bars.  The  floor 
was  bare  of  rushes.  On  one  side  was  a  bed  with 
tattered  hangings  of  green,  which  were  adorned 
with  rampant  lions  worked  in  silver  thread  much 
tarnished ;  to  the  right  hand  stood  a  prie-dieu.  Be- 
tween these  isolated  articles  of  furniture,  and  be- 
hind an  unpainted  table  sat,  in  a  high-backed  chair, 
a  wizen  and  shabbily-clad  old  man.  This  was  Theo- 
doret,  most  pious  and  penurious  of  monarchs.  In 
attendance  upon  him  were  Fra  Battista,  prior  of 
the  Grey  Monks,  and  Melicent's  near  kinsman,  once 
the  Bishop,  now  the  Cardinal,  de  Montors,  who,  as 
was  widely  known,  was  the  actual  monarch  of  this 
realm.  The  latter  was  smartly  habited  as  a  cavalier 
and  showed  in  nothing  like  a  churchman. 

The  infirm  King  arose  and  came  to  meet  the 
champion  who  had  performed  what  many  generals 
of  Christendom  had  vainly  striven  to  achieve.  He 
embraced  the  conqueror  of  Demetrios  as  one  does 
an  equal. 

Said  Theodoret: 

"Hail,  my  fair  friend!  you  who  have  lopped  the 
right  arm  of  heathenry !  To-day,  I  know,  the  saints 


THEODORET  IS  BRAVED  97 

hold  festival  in  heaven.  I  cannot  recompense  you, 
since  God  alone  is  omnipotent.  Yet  ask  now  what 
you  will,  short  of  my  crown,  and  it  is  yours."  The 
old  man  kissed  the  chief  of  all  his  treasures,  a  bit  of 
the  True  Cross,  which  hung  upon  his  breast  sup- 
ported by  a  chain  of  gold. 

"The  King  has  spoken,"  Perion  returned.  "I 
ask  the  life  of  Demetrios." 

Theodoret  recoiled,  like  a  small  flame  which  is 
fluttered  by  its  kindler's  breath.  He  cackled  thinly, 
saying : 

"A  jest  or  so  is  privileged  in  this  high  hour.  Yet 
we  ought  not  to  make  a  jest  of  matters  which  con- 
cern the  Church.  Am  I  not  right,  Ayrart?  Oh, 
no,  this  merciless  Demetrios  is  assuredly  that  very 
Antichrist  whose  coming  was  foretold.  I  must  re- 
linquish him  to  Mother  Church,  in  order  that  he  may 
be  equitably  tried,  and  be  baptised — since  even  he 
may  have  a  soul — and  afterward  be  burned  in  the 
market-place." 

"The  King  has  spoken,"  Perion  replied.  "I  too 
have  spoken." 

There  was  a  pause  of  horror  upon  the  part  of 
King  Theodoret.  He  was  at  first  in  a  mere  whirl. 
Theodoret  said : 

"You  ask,  in  earnest,  for  the  life  of  this  Deme- 


98  DOMNEI 

trios,  this  arch-foe  of  our  Redeemer,  this  spawn 
of  Satan,  who  has  sacked  more  of  my  towns  than 
I  have  fingers  on  this  wasted  hand !  Now,  now  that 
God  has  singularly  favoured  me — !"  Theodoret 
snarled  and  gibbered  like  a  frenzied  ape,  and  had 
no  longer  the  ability  to  articulate. 

"Beau  sire,  I  fought  the  man  because  he  in- 
famously held  Dame  Melicent,  whom  I  serve  in 
this  world  without  any  reservation,  and  trust  to 
serve  in  Paradise.  His  person,  and  this  alone,  will 
ransom  Melicent." 

"You  plan  to  loose  this  fiend !"  the  old  King  cried. 
"To  stir  up  all  this  butchery  again!" 

"Sire,  pray  recall  how  long  I  have  loved  Meli- 
cent. Reflect  that  if  you  slay  Demetrios,  Dame 
Melicent  will  be  left  destitute  in  heathenry.  Re- 
member that  she  will  be  murdered  through  the 
hatred  of  this  man's  other  wives  whom  her  inesti- 
mable beauty  has  supplanted."  Thus  Perion  en- 
treated. 

All  this  while  the  cardinal  and  the  proconsul  had 
been  appraising  each  other.  It  was  as  though  they 
two  had  been  the  only  persons  in  the  dimly-lit  apart- 
ment. They  had  not  met  before.  "Here  is  my 
match,"  thought  each  of  these  two;  "here,  if  the 
world  affords  it,  is  my  peer  in  cunning  and  bravery." 


THEODORET  IS  BRAVED  99 

And  each  lusted  for  a  contest,  and  with  something 
of  mutual  comprehension. 

In  consequence  they  stinted  pity  for  Theodoret, 
who  unfeignedly  believed  that  whether  he  kept  or 
broke  his  recent  oath  damnation  was  inevitable. 
"You  have  been  ill-advised — "  he  stammered.  "I 
do  not  dare  release  Demetrios —  My  soul  would  an- 
swer that  enormity —  But  it  was  sworn  upon  the 
Cross —  Oh,  ruin  either  way!  Come  now,  my 
gallant  captain,"  the  King  barked.  "I  have  gold, 
lands,  and  jewels — " 

"Beau  sire,  I  have  loved  this  my  dearest  lady 
since  the  time  when  both  of  us  were  little  more 
than  children,  and  each  day  of  the  year  my  love  for 
her  has  been  doubled.  What  would  it  avail  me  to 
live  in  however  lofty  estate  when  I  cannot  daily 
see  the  treasure  of  my  life?" 

Now  the  Cardinal  de  Montors  interrupted,  and 
his  voice  was  to  the  ear  as  silk  is  to  the  fingers. 

"Beau  sire,"  said  Ayrart  de  Montors,  "I  speak 
in  all  appropriate  respect.  But  you  have  sworn  an 
oath  which  no  man  living  may  presume  to  violate." 

"Oh,  true,  Ayrart!"  the  fluttered  King  assented. 
"This  blusterer  holds  me  as  in  a  vise."  He  turned 
to  Perion  again,  fierce,  tense  and  fragile,  like  an 
angered  cat.  "Choose  now!  I  will  make  you  the 


100  DOMNEI 

wealthiest  person  in  my  realm —  My  son,  I  warn 
you  that  since  Adam's  time  women  have  been  the 
devil's  peculiar  bait.  See  now,  I  am  not  angry. 
Heh,  I  remember,  too,  how  beautiful  she  was.  I 
was  once  tempted  much  as  you  are  tempted.  So  I 
pardon  you.  I  will  give  you  my  daughter  Ermen- 
garde  in  marriage,  I  will  make  you  my  heir,  I  will 
give  you  half  my  kingdom — "  His  voice  rose, 
quavering;  and  it  died  now,  for  he  foreread  the 
damnation  of  Theodoret's  soul  while  he  fawned 
before  this  impassive  Perion. 

"Since  Love  has  taken  up  his  abode  within  my 
heart,"  said  Perion,  "there  has  not  ever  been  a  va- 
cancy therein  for  any  other  thought.  How  may  I 
help  it  if  Love  recompenses  my  hospitality  by 
afflicting  me  with  a  desire  which  can  neither  subdue 
the  world  nor  be  subdued  by  it?" 

Theodoret  continued  like  the  rustle  of  dead 
leaves : 

" — Else  I  must  keep  my  oath.  In  that  event  you 
may  depart  with  this  unbeliever.  I  will  accord  you 
twenty-four  hours  wherein  to  accomplish  this.  But, 
oh,  if  I  lay  hands  upon  either  of  you  within  the 
twenty-fifth  hour  I  will  not  kill  my  prisoner  at  once. 
For  first  I  must  devise  unheard-of  torments — " 


THEODORET  IS  BRAVED  101 

The  King's  face  was  not  agreeable  to  look  upon. 

Yet  Perion  encountered  it  with  an  untroubled 
gaze  until  Battista  spoke,  saying : 

"I  promise  worse.  The  Book  will  be  cast  down, 
the  bells  be  tolled,  and  all  the  candles  snuffed — 
ah,  very  soon!"  Battista  licked  his  lips,  gingerly, 
just  as  a  cat  does. 

Then  Perion  was  moved,  since  excommunication 
is  more  terrible  than  death  to  any  of  the  Church's 
loyal  children,  and  he  was  now  more  frightened 
than  the  King.  And  so  Perion  thought  of  Melicent 
a  while  before  he  spoke. 

Said  Perion : 

"I  choose.  I  choose  hell  fire  in  place  of  riches 
and  honour,  and  I  demand  the  freedom  of  Deme- 
trios." 

"Go!"  the  King  said.  "Go  hence,  blasphemer. 
Hah,  you  will  weep  for  this  in  hell.  I  pray  that 
I  may  hear  you  then,  and  laugh  as  I  do  now — " 

He  went  away,  and  was  followed  by  Battista,  who 
whispered  of  a  makeshift.  The  cardinal  remained 
and  saw  to  it  that  the  chains  were  taken  from 
Demetrios. 

"In  consequence  of  Messire  de  la  Foret's — as  I 
must  term  it — most  unchristian  decision,"  said  the 


102  DOMNEI 

cardinal,  "it  is  not  impossible,  Messire  the  Procon- 
sul, that  I  may  head  the  next  assault  upon  your 
territory — " 

Demetrios  laughed.     He  said: 

"I  dare  to  promise  your  Eminence  that  reception 
you  would  most  enjoy." 

"I  had  hoped  for  as  much,"  the  cardinal  returned ; 
and  he  too  laughed.  To  do  him  justice,  he  did  not 
know  of  Battista's  makeshift. 

The  cardinal  remained  when  they  had  gone. 
Seated  in  a  king's  chair,  Ayrart  de  Montors  medi- 
tated rather  wistfully  upon  that  old  time  when  he, 
also,  had  loved  Melicent  whole-heartedly.  It 
seemed  a  great  while  ago,  made  him  aware  of  his 
maturity. 

He  had  put  love  out  of  his  life,  in  common  with 
all  other  weaknesses  which  might  conceivably  hinder 
the  advancement  of  Ayrart  de  Montors.  In  con- 
sequence, he  had  climbed  far.  He  was  not  dis- 
satisfied. It  was  a  man's  business  to  make  his 
way  in  the  world,  and  he  had  done  this. 

"My  cousin  is  a  brave  girl,  though,"  he  said 
aloud,  "I  must  certainly  do  what  I  can  to  effect  her 
rescue  as  soon  as  it  is  convenient  to  send  another 
expedition  against  Demetrios." 


THEODORET  IS  BRAVED  103 

Then  the  cardinal  set  about  concoction  of  a  mov- 
ing sonnet  in  praise  of  Monna  Vittoria  de'  Pazzi. 
Desperation  loaned  him  extraordinary  eloquence  (as 
he  complacently  reflected)  in  addressing  this  ob- 
durate woman,  who  had  held  out  against  his  love- 
making  for  six  weeks  now. 


How  Perion  Fought 


DEMETRIOS  and  Perion,  by  the  quick  turn  of 
fortune  previously  recorded,  were  allied 
against  all  Christendom.  They  got  arms  at 
the  Hotel  d'Ebelin,  and  they  rode  out  of  the  city  of 
Megaris,  where  the  bonfires  lighted  over-night  in 
Perion's  honour  were  still  smouldering,  amid  loud 
execrations.  Fra  Battista  had  not  delayed  to  spread 
the  news  of  King  Theodoret's  dilemma.  The 
burghers  yelled  menaces;  but,  knowing  that  an  en- 
deavour to  constrain  the  passage  of  these  champions 
would  prove  unwholesome  for  at  least  a  dozen  of 
the  arresters,  they  cannily  confined  their  malice  to 
a  vocal  demonstration. 

Demetrios  rode  unhelmeted,  intending  that  these 
snarling  little  people  of  Megaris  should  plainly  see 
the  man  whom  they  most  feared  and  hated. 

It  was  Perion  who  spoke  first.  They  had  passed 
the  city  walls,  and  had  mounted  the  hill  which 

104 


PERION  FIGHTS  105 


leads  toward  the  Forest  of  Sannazaro.  Their  road 
lay  through  a  rocky  pass  above  which  the  leaves  of 
spring  were  like  sparse  traceries  on  a  blue  cupola, 
for  April  had  not  come  as  yet. 

"I  meant,"  said  Perion,  "to  hold  you  as  the  ran- 
som of  Dame  Melicent.  I  fear  that  is  impossible. 
I,  who  am  a  landless  man,  have  neither  servitors 
nor  any  castle  wherein  to  retain  you  as  a  prisoner. 
I  earnestly  desire  to  kill  you,  forthwith,  in  single 
combat ;  but  when  your  son  Orestes  knows  that  you 
are  dead  he  will,  so  you  report,  kill  Melicent.  And 
yet  it  may  be  you  are  lying." 

Perion  was  of  a  tall  imperious  person,  and  ac- 
customed to  command.  He  had  black  hair,  grey 
eyes  which  challenged  you,  and  a  thin  pleasant  face 
which  was  not  pleasant  now. 

"You  know  that  I  am  not  a  coward — "  Deme- 
trios  began. 

"Indeed,"  said  Perion,  "I  believe  you  to  be  the 
hardiest  warrior  in  the  world." 

"Therefore  I  may  without  dishonour  repeat  to 
you  that  my  death  involves  the  death  of  Melicent. 
Orestes  hates  her  for  his  mother's  sake.  I  think, 
now  we  have  fought  so  often,  that  each  of  us  knows 
I  do  not  fear  death.  I  grant  I  had  Flamberge  to 
wield,  a  magic  weapon — •"  Demetrios  shook  him- 


106  DOMNEI 

self,  like  a  dog  coming  from  the  water,  for  to  con- 
sider an  extraneous  invincibility  was  nauseous. 
"However!  I  who  am  Demetrios  protest  I  will  not 
fight  with  you,  that  I  will  accept  any  insult  rather 
than  risk  my  life  in  any  quarrel  extant,  because  I 
know  the  moment  that  Orestes  has  made  certain  I 
am  no  longer  to  be  feared  he  will  take  vengeance 
on  Dame  Melicent." 

"Prove  this!"  said  Perion,  and  with  deliberation 
he  struck  Demetrios.  Full  in  the  face  he  struck  the 
swart  proconsul,  and  in  the  ensuing  silence  you 
could  hear  a  feeble  breeze  that  strayed  about  the 
tree-tops,  but  you  could  hear  nothing  else.  And 
Perion,  strong  man,  the  willing  scourge  of  heathen- 
dom, had  half  a  mind  to  weep. 

Demetrios  had  not  moved  a  finger.  It  was  ap- 
palling. The  proconsul's  countenance  had  through- 
out the  hue  of  wood-ashes,  but  his  fixed  eyes  were 
like  blown  embers. 

"I  believe  that  it  is  proved,"  said  Demetrios, 
"since  both  of  us  are  still  alive."  He  whispered  this. 

"In  fact  the  thing  is  settled,"  Perion  agreed.  "I 
know  that  nothing  save  your  love  for  Melicent 
could  possibly  induce  you  to  decline  a  proffered 
battle.  When  Demetrios  enacts  the  poltroon  I  am 
the  most  hasty  of  all  men  living  to  assert  that  the 


PERION  FIGHTS  107 


excellency  of  his  reason  is  indisputable.  Let  us 
get  on!  I  have  only  five  hundred  sequins,  but  this 
will  be  enough  to  buy  your  passage  back  to  Quesiton. 
And  inasmuch  as  we  are  near  the  coast — " 

"I  think  some  others  mean  to  have  a  spoon  in 
that  broth,"  Demetrios  returned.  "For  look,  mes- 
sire!" 

Perion  saw  that  far  beneath  them  a  company 
of  retainers  in  white  and  purple  were  spurring  up 
the  hill.  "It  is  Duke  Sigurd's  livery,"  said  Perion. 

Demetrios  forthwith  interpreted  and  was  amused 
by  their  common  ruin.  He  said,  grinning : 

"Pious  Theodoret  has  sworn  a  truce  of  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  in  consequence  might  not  send  any 
of  his  own  lackeys  after  us.  But  there  was  noth- 
ing to  prevent  the  dropping  of  a  hint  into  the  ear 
of  his  brother  in-law,  because  you  servitors  of 
Christ  excel  in  these  distinctions." 

"This  is  hardly  an  opportunity  for  theological 
debate,"  Perion  considered.  "And  for  the  rest, 
time  presses.  It  is  your  instant  business  to  escape." 
He  gave  his  tiny  bag  of  gold  to  his  chief  enemy. 
"Make  for  Narenta.  It  is  a  free  city  and  unfriendly 
to  Theodoret.  If  I  survive  I  will  come  presently 
and  fight  with  you  for  Melicent." 

"I  shall   do  nothing   of   the  sort,"    Demetrios 


108  DOMNEI 

equably  returned.  "Am  I  the  person  to  permit  the 
man  whom  I  most  hate — you  who  have  struck  me 
and  yet  live! — to  fight  alone  against  some  twenty 
adversaries!  Oh,  no,  I  shall  remain,  since  after 
all,  there  are  only  twenty." 

"I  was  mistaken  in  you,"  Perion  replied,  "for  I 
had  thought  you  loved  Dame  Melicent  as  I  do.  I 
find  too  late  that  you  would  estimate  your  private 
honour  as  set  against  her  welfare." 

The  two  men  looked  upon  each  other.  Long  and 
long  they  looked,  and  the  heart  of  each  was  elated. 
"I  comprehend,"  Demetrios  said.  He  clapped  spurs 
to  his  horse  and  fled  as  a  coward  would  have  fled. 
This  was  one  occasion  in  his  life  when  he  overcame 
his  pride,  and  should  in  consequence  be  noted. 

The  heart  of  Perion  was  glad. 

"Oh,  but  at  times,"  said  Perion,  "I  wish  that  I 
might  honourably  love  this  infamous  and  lustful 
pagan." 

Afterward  Perion  wheeled  and  met  Duke  Sig- 
urd's men.  Then  like  a  reaper  cutting  a  field  of 
wheat  Sire  Perion  showed  the  sun  his  sword  and 
went  about  his  work,  not  without  harvesting. 

In  that  narrow  way  nothing  could  be  heard  but 
the  striking  of  blows  on  armour  and  the  clash  of 
swords  which  bit  at  one  another.  The  Comte  de  la 


PERION  FIGHTS  109 


Foret,  for  once,  allowed  himself  the  privilege  of 
fighting  in  anger.  He  went  without  a  word  toward 
this  hopeless  encounter,  as  a  drunkard  to  his  bottle. 
First  Perion  killed  Ruggiero  of  the  Lamberti  and 
after  that  Perion  raged  as  a  wolf  harrying  sheep. 
Six  other  stalwart  men  he  cut  down,  like  a  dumb 
maniac  among  tapestries.  His  horse  was  slain  and 
lay  blocking  the  road,  making  a  barrier  behind  which 
Perion  fought.  Then  Perion  encountered  Giacomo 
di  Forio,  and  while  the  two  contended  Gulio  the 
Red  very  warily  cast  his  sword  like  a  spear  so  that 
it  penetrated  Perion's  left  shoulder  and  drew  much 
blood.  This  hampered  the  lone  champion.  Marzio 
threw  a  stone  which  struck  on  Perion's  crest  and 
broke  the  fastenings  of  Perion's  helmet.  Instantly 
Giacomo  gave  him  three  wounds,  and  Perion  stum- 
bled, the  sunlight  glossing  his  hair.  He  fell  and 
they  took  him.  They  robbed  the  corpses  of  their 
surcoats,  which  they  tore  in  strips.  They  made 
ropes  of  this  bloodied  finery,  and  with  these  ropes 
they  bound  Perion  of  the  Forest,  whom  twenty  men 
had  conquered  at  last. 

He  laughed  feebly,  like  a  person  bedrugged;  but 
in  the  midst  of  this  superfluous  defiance  Perion 
swooned  because  of  many  injuries.  He  knew  that 
with  fair  luck  Demetrios  had  a  sufficient  start.  The 


110  DOMNEI 


heart  of  Perion  exulted,  thinking  that  Melicent  was 
saved. 

It  was  the  happier  for  him  he  was  not  ever  des- 
tined to  comprehend  the  standards  of  Demetrios. 


Id. 

How  Demetrios  Meditated 


DEMETRIOS  came  without  any  hindrance 
into  Narenta,  a  free  city.  He  believed  his 
Emperor  must  have  sent  galleys  toward 
Christendom  to  get  tidings  of  his  generalissimo,  but 
in  this  city  of  merchants  Demetrios  heard  no  report 
of  them.  Yet  in  the  harbour  he  found  a  trading- 
ship  prepared  for  traffic  in  the  country  of  the  pa- 
gans; the  sail  was  naked  to  the  wind,  the  anchor- 
chain  was  already  shortened  at  the  bow.  Demetrios 
bargained  with  the  captain  of  this  vessel,  and  in  the 
outcome  paid  him  four  hundred  sequins.  In  ex- 
change the  man  agreed  to  touch  at  the  Needle  of 
Ansignano  that  afternoon  and  take  Demetrios 
aboard.  Since  the  proconsul  had  no  passport,  he 
could  not  with  safety  endeavour  to  elude  those  offi- 
cers of  the  Tribunal  who  must  endorse  the  ship's 
passage  at  Piaja. 

Thus  about  sunset  Demetrios  waited  the  ship's 
111 


112  DOMNEI 

coming,  alone  upon  the  Needle.  This  promontory 
is  like  a  Titan's  finger  of  black  rock  thrust  out  into 
the  water.  The  day  was  perishing,  and  the  queru- 
lous sea  before  Demetrios  was  an  unresting  welter 
of  gold  and  blood. 

He  thought  of  how  he  had  won  safely  through  a 
horde  of  dangers,  and  the  gross  man  chuckled.  He 
considered  that  unquestioned  rulership  of  every 
person  near  Demetrios  which  awaited  him  oversea, 
and  chiefly  he  thought  of  Melicent  whom  he  loved 
even  better  than  he  did  the  power  to  sneer  at  every- 
thing the  world  contained.  And  the  proconsul 
chuckled. 

He  said,  aloud : 

"I  owe  very  much  to  Messire  de  la  Foret.  I 
owe  far  more  than  I  can  estimate.  For,  by  this, 
those  lackeys  will  have  slain  Messire  de  la  Foret 
or  else  they  will  have  taken  Messire  de  la  Foret  to 
King  Theodoret,  who  will  piously  make  an  end  of 
this  handsome  idiot.  Either  way,  I  shall  enjoy 
tranquillity  and  shall  possess  my  Melicent  until  I 
die.  Decidedly,  I  owe  a  deal  to  this  self-satisfied 
tall  fool." 

Thus  he  contended  with  his  irritation.  It  may 
be  that  the  man  was  never  sane;  it  is  certain  that 
the  mainspring  of  his  least  action  was  an  inordinate 


DEMETRIOS  MEDITATES  113 

pride.  Now  hatred  quickened,  spreading  from  a 
flicker  of  distaste ;  and  his  faculties  were  stupefied, 
as  though  he  faced  a  girdling  conflagration.  It  was 
not  possible  to  hate  adequately  this  Perion  who 
had  struck  Demetrios  of  Anatolia  and  perhaps  was 
not  yet  dead;  nor  could  Demetrios  think  of  any 
sufficing  requital  for  this  Perion  who  dared  to  be  so 
tall  and  handsome  and  young-looking  when  Deme- 
trios was  none  of  these  things,  for  this  Perion  whom 
Melicent  had  loved  and  loved  to-day.  And  Deme- 
trios of  Anatolia  had  fought  with  a  charmed  sword 
against  a  person  such  as  this,  safe  as  an  angler 
matched  against  a  minnow ;  Demetrios  of  Anatolia, 
now  at  the  last,  accepted  alms  from  what  had  been 
until  to-day  a  pertinacious  gnat.  Demetrios  was 
physically  shaken  by  disgust  at  the  situation,  and 
in  the  sunset's  glare  his  swarthy  countenance 
showed  like  that  of  Belial  among  the  damned. 

"The  life  of  Melicent  hangs  on  my  safe  return 
to  Nacumera.  .  .  .  Ey,  what  is  that  to  me!"  the 
proconsul  cried  aloud.  "The  thought  of  Melicent 
is  sweeter  than  the  thought  of  any  god.  It  is  not 
sweet  enough  to  bribe  me  into  living  as  this  Perion's 
debtor." 

So  when  the  ship  touched  at  the  Needle,  a  half- 
hour  later,  that  spur  of  rock  was  vacant.  Deme- 


114  DOMNEI 

trios  had  untethered  his  horse,  had  thrown  away 
his  sword  and  other  armour,  and  had  torn  his  gar- 
ments; afterward  he  rolled  in  the  first  puddle  he 
discovered.  Thus  he  set  out  afoot,  in  grimy  rags — 
for  no  one  marks  a  beggar  upon  the  highway — and 
thus  he  came  again  into  the  realm  of  King  Theo- 
doret,  where  certainly  nobody  looked  for  Demetrios 
to  come  unarmed. 

With  the  advantage  of  a  quiet  advent,  as  was 
quickly  proven,  he  found  no  check  for  a  notorious 
leave-taking. 


How  a  Minstrel  Came 


DEMETRIOS  came  to  Megaris  where  Perion 
lay  fettered  in  the  Castle  of  San*  Alessandro, 
then  a  new  building.     Perion's  trial,  con- 
demnation, and  so  on,  had  consumed  the  better  part 
of  an  hour,  on  account  of  the  drunkenness  of  one 
of  the  Inquisitors,  who  had  vexatiously  impeded 
these  formalities  by  singing  love-songs;  but  in  the 
end  it  had  been  salutarily  arranged  that  the  Comte 
de  la  Foret  be  torn  apart  by  four  horses  upon  the 
St.  Richard's  day  ensuing. 

Demetrios,  having  gleaned  this  knowledge  in  a 
pothouse,  purchased  a  stout  file,  a  scarlet  cap  and 
a  lute.  Ambrogio  Bracciolini,  head-gaoler  at  the 
fortress — so  the  gossips  told  Demetrios — had  been 
a  jongleur  in  youth,  and  minstrels  were  always  wel- 
come guests  at  San'  Alessandro. 

The  gaoler  was  a  very  fat  man  with  icy  little 
115 


116  DOMNEI 

eyes.  Demetrios  took  his  measure  to  a  hair's  breadth 
as  this  Bracciolini  straddled  in  the  doorway. 

Demetrios  had  assumed  an  admirable  air  of  sim- 
plicity. 

"God  give  you  joy,  messire,"  he  said,  with  a 
simper;  "I  come  bringing  a  precious  balsam  which 
cures  all  sorts  of  ills,  and  heals  the  troubles  both 
of  body  and  mind.  For  what  is  better  than  to  have 
a  pleasant  companion  to  sing  and  tell  merry  tales, 
songs  and  facetious  histories?" 

"You  appear  to  be  something  of  a  fool,"  Brac- 
ciolini considered,  "but  all  do  not  sleep  who  snore. 
Come,  tell  me  what  are  your  accomplishments." 

"I  can  play  the  lute,  the  violin,  the  flageolet,  the 
harp,  the  syrinx  and  the  regals,"  the  other  replied ; 
"also  the  Spanish  penola  that  is  struck  with  a  quill, 
the  organistrum  that  a  wheel  turns  round,  the  wait 
so  delightful,  the  rebeck  so  enchanting,  the  little 
gigue  that  chirps  up  on  high,  and  the  great  horn 
that  booms  like  thunder." 

Bracciolini  said: 

"That  is  something.  But  can  you  throw  knives 
into  the  air  and  catch  them  without  cutting  your 
fingers  ?  Can  you  balance  chairs  and  do  tricks  with 
string?  or  imitate  the  cries  of  birds?  or  throw  a 
somersault  and  walk  on  your  head  ?  Ha,  I  thought 


A  MINSTREL  COMES  117 

not.  The  Gay  Science  is  dying  out,  and  young 
practitioners  neglect  these  subtile  points.  It  was  not 
so  in  my  day.  However,  you  may  come  in." 

So  when  night  fell  Demetrios  and  Bracciolini 
sat  snug  and  sang  of  love,  of  joy,  and  arms.  The 
fire  burned  bright,  and  the  floor  was  well  covered 
with  gaily  tinted  mats.  White  wines  and  red  were 
on  the  table. 

Presently  they  turned  to  canzons  of  a  more  in- 
decorous nature.  Demetrios  sang  the  loves  of  Douzi 
and  Ishtar,  which  the  gaoler  found  remarkable.  He 
said  so  and  crossed  himself.  "Man,  man,  you 
must  have  been  afishing  in  the  mid-pit  of  hell  to  net 
such  filth." 

"I  learned  that  song  in  Nacumera,"  said  Deme- 
trios, "when  I  was  a  prisoner  there  with  Messire 
de  la  Foret.  It  was  a  favourite  song  with  him." 

"Ay?"  said  Bracciolini.  He  looked  at  Demetrios 
very  hard,  and  Bracciolini  pursed  his  lips  as  if  to 
whistle.  The  gaoler  scented  from  afar  a  bribe,  but 
the  face  of  Demetrios  was  all  vacant  cheerfulness. 

Bracciolini  said,  idly: 

"So  you  served  under  him?  I  remember  that  he 
was  taken  by  the  heathen.  A  woman  ransomed 
him,  they  say." 

Demetrios,  able  to  tell  a  tale  against  any  man, 


118  DOMNEI 

told  now  the  tale  of  Melicent's  immolation,  speak- 
ing with  vivacity  and  truthfulness  in  all  points  save 
that  he  represented  himself  to  have  been  one  of  the 
ransomed  Free  Companions. 

Bracciolini's  careful  epilogue  was  that  the  pro- 
consul had  acted  foolishly  in  not  keeping  the  emer- 
alds. 

"He  gave  his  enemy  a  weapon  against  him,"  Brac- 
ciolini  said,  and  waited. 

"Oh,  but  that  weapon  was  never  used.  Sire 
Perion  found  service  at  once  under  King  Bernart, 
you  will  remember.  Therefore  Sire  Perion  hid 
away  these  emeralds  against  future  need — under  an 
oak  in  Sannazaro,  he  told  me.  I  suppose  they  lie 
there  yet." 

"Humph !"  said  Bracciolini.  He  for  a  while  was 
silent.  Demetrios  sat  adjusting  the  strings  of  the 
lute,  not  looking  at  him. 

Bracciolini  said,  "There  were  eighteen  of  them, 
you  tell  me  ?  and  all  fine  stones  ?" 

"Ey? — oh,  the  emeralds?  Yes,  they  were  flawless, 
messire.  The  smallest  was  larger  than  a  robin's  egg. 
But  I  recall  another  song  we  learned  at  Nacu- 
mera — " 

Demetrios  sang  the  loves  of  Lucius  and  Fotis. 


A  MINSTREL  COMES  119 

Bracciolini  grunted,  "Admirable"  in  an  abstracted 
fashion,  muttered  something  about  the  duties  of  his 
office,  and  left  the  room.  Demetrios  heard  him 
lock  the  door  outside  and  waited  stolidly. 

Presently  Bracciolini  returned  in  full  armour,  a 
naked  sword  in  his  hand. 

"My  man," — and  his  voice  rasped — "I  believe 
you  to  be  a  rogue.  I  believe  that  you  are  contriv- 
ing the  escape  of  this  infamous  Comte  de  la  Foret. 
I  believe  you  are  attempting  to  bribe  me  into  con- 
niving at  his  escape.  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort, 
because,  in  the  first  place,  it  would  be  an  abomi- 
nable violation  of  my  oath  of  office,  and  in  the  sec- 
ond place,  it  would  result  in  my  being  hanged." 

"Messire,  I  swear  to  you — !"  Demetrios  cried,  in 
excellently  feigned  perturbation. 

"And  in  addition,  I  believe  you  have  lied  to  me 
throughout.  I  do  not  believe  you  ever  saw  this 
Comte  de  la  Foret.  I  very  certainly  do  not  believe 
you  are  a  friend  of  this  Comte  de  la  Foret' s,  because 
in  that  event  you  would  never  have  been  mad 
enough  to  admit  it.  The  statement  is  enough  to 
hang  you  twice  over.  In  short,  the  only  thing  I  can 
be  certain  of  is  that  you  are  out  of  your  wits." 

"They  say  that  I  am  moonstruck,"   Demetrios 


120  DOMNEI 

answered;  "but  I  will  tell  you  a  secret.  There  is 
a  wisdom  lies  beyond  the  moon,  and  it  is  because  of 
this  that  the  stars  are  glad  and  admirable." 

"That  appears  to  me  to  be  nonsense,"  the  gaoler 
commented ;  and  he  went  on :  "Now  I  am  going  to 
confront  you  with  Messire  de  la  Foret.  If  your 
story  prove  to  be  false,  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you." 

"It  is  a  true  tale.  But  sensible  men  close  the 
door  to  him  who  always  speaks  the  truth." 

"These  reflections  are  not  to  the  purpose,"  Brac- 
ciolini  submitted,  and  continued  his  argument :  "In 
that  event  Messire  de  la  Foret  will  undoubtedly  be 
moved  by  your  fidelity  in  having  sought  out  him 
whom  all  the  rest  of  the  world  has  forsaken.  You 
will  remember  that  this  same  fidelity  has  touched 
me  to  such  an  extent  that  I  am  granting  you  an 
interview  with  your  former  master.  Messire  de  la 
Foret  will  naturally  reflect  that  a  man  once  torn 
in  four  pieces  has  no  particular  use  for  emeralds. 
He  will,  I  repeat,  be  moved.  In  his  emotion,  in  his 
gratitude,  in  mere  decency,  he  will  reveal  to  you 
the  location  of  those  eighteen  stones,  all  flawless. 
If  he  should  not  evince  a  sufficiency  of  such  ap- 
propriate and  laudable  feeling,  I  tell  you  candidly,  it 
will  be  the  worse  for  you.  And  now  get  on !" 

Bracciolini  pointed  the  way  and  Demetrios  cringed 


A  MINSTREL  COMES  121 

through  the  door.  Bracciolini  followed  with  drawn 
sword.  The  corridors  were  deserted.  The  head- 
gaoler  had  seen  to  that. 

His  position  was  simple.  Armed,  he  was  cer- 
tainly not  afraid  of  any  combination  between  a 
weaponless  man  and  a  fettered  one.  If  this  jongleur 
had  lied,  Bracciolini  meant  to  kill  him  for  his  inso- 
lence. Bracciolini's  own  haphazard  youth  had 
taught  him  that  a  jongleur  had  no  civil  rights,  was 
a  creature  to  be  beaten,  robbed,  or  stabbed  with 
impunity. 

Upon  the  other  hand,  if  the  vagabond's  tale  were 
true,  one  of  two  things  would  happen.  Either  Perion 
would  not  be  brought  to  tell  where  the  emeralds 
were  hidden,  in  which  event  Bracciolini  would  kill 
the  jongleur  for  his  bungling;  or  else  the  prisoner 
would  tell  everything  necessary,  in  which  event 
Bracciolini  would  kill  the  jongleur  for  knowing 
more  than  was  convenient.  This  Bracciolini  had  an 
honest  respect  for  gems  and  considered  them  to  be 
equally  misplaced  when  under  an  oak  or  in  a  vaga- 
bond's wallet. 

Consideration  of  such  avarice  may  well  have 
heartened  Demetrios  when  the  well-armoured  gaoler 
knelt  in  order  to  unlock  the  door  of  Perion's  cell. 
As  an  asp  leaps,  the  big  and  supple  hands  of  the 


122  DOMNEI 

proconsul  gripped  Bracciolini's  neck  from  behind, 
and  silenced  speech. 

Demetrios,  who  was  not  tall,  lifted  the  gaoler 
as  high  as  possible,  lest  the  beating  of  armoured 
feet  upon  the  slabs  disturb  any  of  the  other  keepers, 
and  Demetrios  strangled  his  dupe  painstakingly. 
The  keys,  as  Demetrios  reflected,  were  luckily  at- 
tached to  the  belt  of  this  writhing  thing,  and  in 
consequence  had  not  jangled  on  the  floor.  It  was 
an  inaudible  affair  and  consumed  in  all  some  ten 
minutes.  Then  with  the  sword  of  Bracciolini  De- 
metrios cut  Bracciolini's  throat.  In  such  matters 
Demetrios  was  thorough. 


*l8. 

How  They  Cried  Quits 


DEMETRIOS  went  into  Perion's  cell  and  filed 
away  the  chains  of  Perion  of  the  Forest. 
Demetrios  thrust  the  gaoler's  corpse  under 
the  bed,  and  washed  away  all  stains  before  the  door 
of  the  cell,  so  that  no  awkward  traces  might  remain. 
Demetrios  locked  the  door  of  an  unoccupied  apart- 
ment and  grinned  as  Old  Legion  must  have  done 
when  Judas  fell. 

More  thanks  to  Bracciolini's  precautions,  these 
two  got  safely  from  the  confines  of  San'  Alessan- 
dro,  and  afterward  from  the  city  of  Megaris.  They 
trudged  on  a  familiar  road.  Perion  would  have 
spoken,  but  Demetrios  growled,  "Not  now,  mes- 
sire."  They  came  by  night  to  that  pass  in  Sannazaro 
which  Perion  had  held  against  a  score  of  men-at- 
arms. 

Demetrios   turned.      Moonlight   illuminated   the 
123 


124  DOMNEI 

warriors'  faces  and  showed  the  face  of  Demetrios 
as  sly  and  leering.  It  was  less  the  countenance  of 
a  proud  lord  than  a  carved  head  on  some  old  water- 
spout. 

"Messire  de  la  Foret,"  Demetrios  said,  "now  we 
cry  quits.  Here  our  ways  part  till  one  of  us  has 
killed  the  other,  as  one  of  us  must  surely  do." 

You  saw  that  Perion  was  tremulous  with  fury. 
"You  knave,"  he  said,  "because  of  your  pride  you 
have  imperilled  your  accursed  life — your  life  on 
which  the  life  of  Melicent  depends!  You  must 
need  delay  and  rescue  me,  while  your  spawn  in- 
flicted hideous  infamies  on  Melicent!  Oh,  I  had 
never  hated  you  until  to-night!" 

Demetrios  was  pleased. 

"Behold  the  increment,"  he  said,  "of  the  turned 
cheek  and  of  the  contriving  of  good  for  him  that 
had  despitefully  used  me!  Be  satisfied,  O  young 
and  zealous  servitor  of  Love  and  Christ.  I  am 
alone,  unarmed  and  penniless,  among  a  people  whom 
I  have  never  been  at  pains  even  to  despise.  Pres- 
ently I  shall  be  taken  by  this  vermin,  and  afterward 
I  shall  be  burned  alive.  Theodoret  is  quite  resolved 
to  make  of  me  a  candle  which  will  light  his  way 
to  heaven." 


THEY  CRY  QUITS  125 

"That  is  true,"  said  Perion;  "and  I  cannot  permit 
that  you  be  killed  by  anyone  save  me,  as  soon  as  I 
can  afford  to  kill  you." 

The  two  men  talked  together,  leagued  against 
entire  Christendom.  Demetrios  had  thirty  sequins 
and  Perion  no  money  at  all.  Then  Perion  showed 
the  ring  which  Melicent  had  given  him,  as  a  love- 
token,  long  ago,  when  she  was  young  and  igno- 
rant of  misery.  He  valued  it  as  he  did  nothing  else. 

Perion  said: 

"Oh,  very  dear  to  me  is  this  dear  ring  which 
once  touched  a  finger  of  that  dear  young  Melicent 
whom  you  know  nothing  of!  Its  gold  is  my  lost 
youth,  the  gems  of  it  are  the  tears  she  has  shed 
because  of  me.  Kiss  it,  Messire  Demetrios,  as  I 
do  now  for  the  last  time.  It  is  a  favour  you  have 
earned." 

Then  these  two  went  as  mendicants — for  no  one 
marks  a  beggar  upon  the  highway — into  Narenta, 
and  they  sold  this  ring,  in  order  that  Demetrios 
might  be  conveyed  oversea,  and  that  the  life  of 
Melicent  might  be  preserved.  They  found  another 
vessel  which  was  about  to  venture  into  heathendom. 
Their  gold  was  given  to  the  captain;  and,  in  ex- 
change, the  bargain  ran,  his  ship  would  touch  at 


126  DOMNEI 

Assignano,  a  little  after  the  ensuing  dawn,  and  take 
Demetrios  aboard. 

Thus  the  two  lovers  of  Melicent  foreplanned  the 
future,  and  did  not  admit  into  their  accounting 
vagarious  Dame  Chance. 


How  Flamberge  Was  Lost 


THESE  hunted  men  spent  the  following  night 
upon  the  Needle,  since  there  it  was  not  pos- 
sible   for   an   adversary   to   surprise   them. 
Perion's  was  the  earlier  watch,  until  midnight,  and 
during  this  time  Demetrios  slept.     Then  the  pro- 
consul took  his  equitable  turn.    When  Perion  awak- 
ened the  hour  was  after  dawn. 

What  Perion  noted  first,  and  within  thirty  feet 
of  him,  was  a  tall  galley  with  blue  and  yellow  sails. 
He  perceived  that  the  promontory  was  thronged 
with  heathen  sailors,  who  were  unlading  the  ship 
of  various  bales  and  chests.  Demetrios,  now  in  the 
costume  of  his  native  country,  stood  among  them 
giving  orders.  And  it  seemed,  too,  to  Perion,  in  the 
moment  of  waking,  that  Dame  Melusine,  whom 
Perion  had  loved  so  long  ago,  also  stood  among 
them;  yet,  now  that  Perion  rose  and  faced  Deme- 
trios, she  was  not  visible  anywhere,  and  Perion 

127 


128  DOMNEI 

wondered  dimly  over  his  wild  dream  that  she  had 
been  there  at  all.  But  more  importunate  matters 
were  in  hand. 

The  proconsul  grinned  malevolently. 

"This  is  a  ship  that  once  was  mine,"  he  said. 
"Do  you  not  find  it  droll  that  Euthyclos  here  should 
have  loved  me  sufficiently  to  hazard  his  life  in 
order  to  come  in  search  of  me?  Personally,  I  con- 
sider it  preposterous.  For  the  rest,  you  slept  so 
soundly,  Messire  de  la  Foret,  that  I  was  unwilling 
to  waken  you.  Then,  too,  such  was  the  advice  of 
a  person  who  has  some  influence  with  the  water- 
folk,  people  say,  and  who  was  perhaps  the  means 
of  bringing  this  ship  hither  so  opportunely.  I  do 
not  know.  She  is  gone  now,  you  see,  intent  as 
always  on  her  own  ends.  Well,  well!  her  ways 
are  not  our  ways,  and  it  is  wiser  not  to  meddle 
with  them." 

But  Perion,  unarmed  and  thus  surrounded,  un- 
derstood only  that  he  was  lost. 

"Messire  Demetrios,"  said  Perion,  "I  never 
thought  to  ask  a  favour  of  you.  I  ask  it  now. 
For  the  ring's  sake,  give  me  at  least  a  knife,  Messire 
Demetrios.  Let  me  die  fighting." 

"Why,  but  who  spoke  of  fighting?  For  the  ring's 
sake,  I  have  caused  the  ship  to  be  rifled  of  what 


FLAMBERGE  IS  LOST  129 

valuables  they  had  aboard.  It  is  not  much,  but  it 
is  all  I  have.  And  you  are  to  accept  my  apologies 
for  the  somewhat  miscellaneous  nature  of  the  cargo, 
Messire  de  la  Foret — consisting,  as  it  does,  of 
armours  and  gems,  camphor  and  ambergris,  carpets 
of  raw  silk,  teakwood  and  precious  metals,  rugs  of 
Yemen  leather,  enamels,  and  I  hardly  know  what 
else  besides.  For  Euthyclos,  as  you  will  readily  un- 
derstand, was  compelled  to  masquerade  as  a  mer- 
chant-trader." 

Perion  shook  his  head,  and  declared: 
"You  offer  enough  to  make  me  a  wealthy  man. 
But  I  would  prefer  a  sword." 

At  that  Demetrios  grimaced,  saying,  "I  had  hoped 
to  get  off  more  cheaply."  He  unbuckled  the  cross- 
handled  sword  which  he  now  wore  and  handed  it 
to  Perion.  "This  is  Flamberge,"  Demetrios  con- 
tinued— "that  magic  blade  which  Galas  made,  in 
the  old  time's  heyday,  for  Charlemaigne.  It  was 
with  this  sword  that  I  slew  my  father,  and  this 
sword  is  as  dear  to  me  as  your  ring  was  to  you. 
The  man  who  wields  it  is  reputed  to  be  unconquer- 
able. I  do  not  know  about  that,  but  in  any  event 
I  yield  Flamberge  to  you  as  a  free  gift.  I  might 
have  known  it  was  the  only  gift  you  would  accept." 
His  swart  face  lighted.  "Come  presently  and  fight 


130  DOMNEI 

with  me  for  Melicent.  Perhaps  it  will  amuse  me 
to  ride  out  to  battle  and  know  I  shall  not  live  to  see 
the  sunset.  Already  it  seems  laughable  that  you 
will  probably  kill  me  with  this  very  sword  which 
I  am  touching  now." 

The  champions  faced  each  other,  Demetrios  in  a 
half-wistful  mirth,  and  Perion  in  half-grudging  pity. 
Long  and  long  they  looked. 

Demetrios  shrugged.     Demetrios  said: 

"For  such  as  I  am,  to  love  is  dangerous.  For 
such  as  I  am,  nor  fire  nor  meteor  hurls  a  mightier 
bolt  than  Aphrodite's  shaft,  or  marks  its  passage 
by  more  direful  ruin.  But  you  do  not  know  Eu- 
ripides?— a  fidgety-footed  liar,  Messire  the  Comte, 
who  occasionally  blunders  into  the  clumsiest  truths. 
Yes,  he  is  perfectly  right;  all  things  this  goddess 
laughingly  demolishes  while  she  essays  haphazard 
flights  about  the  world  as  unforeseeably  as  travels 
a  bee.  And,  like  the  bee,  she  wilfully  dispenses 
honey,  and  at  other  times  a  wound." 

Said  Perion,  who  was  no  scholar: 

"I  glory  in  our  difference.  For  such  as  I  am,  love 
is  sufficient  proof  that  man  was  fashioned  in  God's 
image." 

"Ey,  there  is  no  accounting  for  a  taste  in  apho- 
risms," Demetrios  replied.  He  said,  "Now  I  em- 


FLAMBERGE  IS  LOST  131 

bark."  Yet  he  delayed,  and  spoke  with  unaccus- 
tomed awkwardness.  "Come,  you  who  have  been 
generous  till  this!  will  you  compel  me  to  desert 
you  here — quite  penniless?" 

Said  Perion: 

"I  may  accept  a  sword  from  you.  I  do  accept  it 
gladly.  But  I  may  not  accept  anything  else." 

"That  would  have  been  my  answer.  I  am  a 
lucky  man,"  Demetrios  said,  "to  have  provoked  an 
enemy  so  worthy  of  my  opposition.  We  two  have 
fought  an  honest  and  notable  duel,  wherein  our 
weapons  were  not  made  of  steel.  I  pray  you  harry 
me  as  quickly  as  you  may;  and  then  we  will  fight 
with  swords  till  I  am  rid  of  you  or  you  of  me." 

"Assuredly,  I  shall  not  fail  you,"  answered  Pe- 
rion. 

These  two  embraced  and  kissed  each  other.  Af- 
terward Demetrios  went  into  his  own  country,  and 
Perion  remained,  girt  with  the  magic  sword  Flam- 
berge.  It  was  not  all  at  once  Perion  recollected  that 
the  wearer  of  Flamberge  is  unconquerable,  if  an- 
cient histories  are  to  be  believed,  for  in  deduction 
Perion  was  leisurely. 

Now  on  a  sudden  he  perceived  that  Demetrios 
had  flung  control  of  the  future  to  Perion,  as  one 
gives  money  to  a  sot,  entirely  prescient  of  how  it 


132  DOMNEI 


will  be  used.  Perion  had  his*  moment  of  bleak 
rage. 

"I  will  not  cog  the  dice  to  my  advantage  any 
more  than  you !"  said  Perion.  He  drew  the  sword 
of  Charlemaigne  and  brandished  it  and  cast  it  as 
far  as  even  strong  Perion  could  cast,  and  the  sea 
swallowed  it.  "Now  God  alone  is  arbiter!"  cried 
Perion,  "and  I  am  not  afraid." 

He  stood  a  pauper  and  a  friendless  man.  Beside 
his  thigh  hung  a  sorcerer's  scabbard  of  blue  leather, 
curiously  ornamented,  but  it  was  emptied  of  power. 
Yet  Perion  laughed  exultingly,  because  he  was  elate 
with  dreams  of  the  future.  And  for  the  rest,  he 
was  aware  it  is  less  grateful  to  remember  plaudits 
than  to  recall  the  exercise  of  that  in  us  which  is 
not  merely  human. 


20. 

How  Per  ion  Got  Aid 


THEN  Perion  turned  from  the  Needle  of  As- 
signano,  and  went  westward  into  the  Forest 
of  Columbiers.     He  had  no  plan.     He  wan- 
dered in  the  high  woods  that  had  never  yet  been 
felled  or  ordered,  as  a  beast  does  in  watchful  care 
of  hunters. 

He  came  presently  to  a  glade  which  the  sunlight 
flooded  without  obstruction.  There  was  in  this 
place  a  fountain,  which  oozed  from  under  an  iron- 
coloured  boulder  incrusted  with  grey  lichens  and 
green  moss.  Upon  the  rock  a  woman  sat,  her  chin 
propped  by  one  hand,  and  she  appeared  to  consider 
remote  and  pleasant  happenings.  She  was  clothed 
throughout  in  white,  with  metal  bands  about  her 
neck  and  arms;  and  her  loosened  hair,  which  was 
coloured  like  straw,  and  was  as  pale  as  the  hair 
of  children,  glittered  about  her,  and  shone  frostily 

133 


134  DOMNEI 


where  it  lay  outspread  upon  the  rock  behind  her. 

She  turned  toward  Perion  without  any  haste  or 
surprise,  and  Perion  saw  that  this  woman  was  Dame 
Melusine,  whom  he  had  loved  to  his  own  hurt  (as 
you  have  heard)  when  Perion  served  King  Helmas. 
She  did  not  speak  for  a  long  while,  but  she  lazily 
considered  Perion's  honest  face  in  a  sort  of  whimsi- 
cal regret  for  the  adoration  she  no  longer  found 
there. 

"Then  it  was  really  you,"  he  said,  in  wonder, 
"whom  I  saw  talking  with  Demetrios  when  I  awak- 
ened to-day." 

"You  may  be  sure,"  she  answered,  "that  my  talk- 
ing was  in  no  way  injurious  to  you.  Ah,  no,  had  I 
been  elsewhere,  Perion,  I  think  you  would  by  this 
have  been  in  Paradise."  Then  Melusine  fell  again 
to  meditation.  "And  so  you  do  not  any  longer 
either  love  or  hate  me,  Perion?"  Here  was  an 
odd  echo  of  the  complaint  Demetrios  had  made. 

"That  I  once  loved  you  is  a  truth  which  neither 
of  us,  I  think,  may  ever  quite  forget,"  said  Perion, 
very  quiet.  "I  alone  know  how  utterly  I  loved  you 
— no,  it  was  not  I  who  loved  you,  but  a  boy  that 
is  dead  now.  King's  daughter,  all  of  stone,  O  cruel 
woman  and  hateful,  O  sleek,  smiling  traitress!  to- 
day no  man  remembers  how  utterly  I  loved  you,  for 


PERION  GETS  AID  135 

the  years  are  as  a  mist  between  the  heart  of  the 
dead  boy  and  me,  so  that  I  may  no  longer  see  the 
boy's  heart  clearly.  Yes,  I  have  forgotten  much. 
.  .  .  Yet  even  to-day  there  is  that  in  me  which  is 
faithful  to  you,  and  I  cannot  give  you  the  hatred 
which  your  treachery  has  earned." 

Melusine  spoke  shrewdly.  She  had  a  sweet,  shrill 
voice. 

"But  I  loved  you,  Perion — oh,  yes,  in  part  I 
loved  you,  just  as  one  cannot  help  but  love  a  large 
and  faithful  mastiff.  But  you  were  tedious,  you 
annoyed  me  by  your  egotism.  Yes,  my  friend,  you 
think  too  much  of  what  you  owe  to  Perion's  hon- 
our; you  are  perpetually  squaring  accounts  with 
heaven,  and  you  are  too  intent  on  keeping  the  bal- 
ance in  your  favour  to  make  a  satisfactory  lover." 
You  saw  that  Melusine  was  smiling  in  the  shadow 
of  her  pale  hair.  "And  yet  you  are  very  droll  when 
you  are  unhappy,"  she  said,  as  of  two  minds. 

He  replied: 

"I  am,  as  heaven  made  me,  a  being  of  mingled 
nature.  So  I  remember  without  distaste  old  happen- 
ings which  now  seem  scarcely  credible.  I  cannot 
quite  believe  that  it  was  you  and  I  who  were  so 
happy  when  youth  was  common  to  us.  ...  O 
Melusine,  I  have  almost  forgotten  that  if  the  world 


136  DOMNEI 


were  searched  between  the  sunrise  and  the  sunset- 
ting  the  Melusine  I  loved  would  not  be  found.  I 
only  know  that  a  woman  has  usurped  the  voice  of 
Melusine,  and  that  this  woman's  eyes  also  are  blue, 
and  that  this  woman  smiles  as  Melusine  was  used  to 
smile  when  I  was  young.  I  walk  with  ghosts,  king's 
daughter,  and  I  am  none  the  happier." 

"Ay,  Perion,"  she  wisely  answered,  "for  the 
spring  is  at  hand,  intent  upon  an  ageless  magic.  I 
am  no  less  comely  than  I  was,  and  my  heart,  I 
think,  is  tenderer.  You  are  yet  young,  and  you 
are  very  beautiful,  my  brave  mastiff.  .  .  .  And 
neither  of  us  is  moved  at  all!  For  us  the  spring 
is  only  a  dotard  sorcerer  who  has  forgotten  the 
spells  of  yesterday.  I  think  that  it  is  pitiable,  al- 
though I  would  not  have  it  otherwise."  She  waited, 
fairy-like  and  wanton,  seeming  to  premeditate  a 
delicate  mischief. 

He  declared,  sighing,  "No,  I  would  not  have  it 
otherwise." 

Then  presently  Melusine  arose.    She  said: 

"You  are  a  hunted  man,  unarmed — oh,  yes,  I 
know.  Demetrios  talked  freely,  because  the  son 
of  Miramon  Lluagor  has  good  and  ancient  reasons 
to  trust  me.  Besides,  it  was  not  for  nothing  that 
Pressina  was  my  mother,  and  I  know  many  things, 


PERION  GETS  AID  137 

pilfering  light  from  the  past  to  shed  it  upon  the 
future.  Come  now  with  me  to  Brunbelois.  I  am 
too  deeply  in  your  debt,  my  Perion.  For  the  sake 
of  that  boy  who  is  dead — as  you  tell  me — you  may 
honourably  accept  of  me  a  horse,  arms,  and  a 
purse,  because  I  loved  that  boy  after  my  fashion." 

"I  take  your  bounty  gladly,"  he  replied;  and  he 
added  conscientiously:  "I  consider  that  I  am  not 
at  liberty  to  refuse  of  anybody  any  honest  means  of 
serving  my  lady  Melicent." 

Melusine  parted  her  lips  as  if  about  to  speak,  and 
then  seemed  to  think  better  of  it.  It  is  probable  she 
was  already  informed  concerning  Melicent;  she  cer- 
tainly asked  no  questions.  Melusine  only  shrugged, 
and  laughed  afterward,  and  the  man  and  the  woman 
turned  toward  Brunbelois.  At  times  a  shaft  of 
sunlight  would  fall  on  her  pale  hair  and  convert  it 
into  silver,  as  these  two  went  through  the  high  woods 
that  had  never  yet  been  felled  or  ordered. 


PART  FOUR 
AHASUERUS 

Of  how  a  knave  hath  late  compassion 
On  Melicent's  forlorn  condition; 
For  which  he  saith  as  ye  shall  after  hear: 
"Dame,  since  that  game  we  play  costeth  too  dear, 
My  truth  I  plight,  I  shall  you  no  more  grieve 
By  my  behest,  and  here  I  take  my  leave 
As  of  the  fairest,  truest  and  best  wife 
That  ever  yet  I  knew  in  all  my  life" 


How  Demetrios  Held  His  Chattel 


IT  is  a  tale  which  they  narrate  in  Poictesme,  tell- 
ing how  Demetrios  returned  into  the  country  of 
the  pagans  and  found  all  matters  there  as  he 
had  left  them.    They  relate  how  Melicent  was  sum- 
moned. 

And  the  tale  tells  how  upon  the  stairway  by 
which  you  descended  from  the  Women's  Garden 
to  the  citadel — people  called  it  the  Queen's  Stairway, 
because  it  was  builded  by  Queen  Rudabeh  very  long 
ago  when  the  Emperor  Zal  held  Nacumera — Deme- 
trios waited  with  a  naked  sword.  Below  were 
four  of  his  soldiers,  picked  warriors.  This  stairway 
was  of  white  marble,  and  a  sphinx  carved  in  green 
porphyry  guarded  each  balustrade. 

"Now  that  we  have  our  audience,"  Demetrios 
said,  "come,  let  the  games  begin." 

One  of  the  soldiers  spoke.    It  was  that  Euthyclos 
141 


142  DOMNEI 

who  (as  you  have  heard)  had  ventured  into  Chris- 
tendom at  the  hazard  of  his  life  to  rescue  the  pro- 
consul. Euthyclos  was  a  man  of  the  West  Provinces 
and  had  followed  the  fortunes  of  Demetrios  since 
boyhood. 

"King  of  the  Age,"  cried  Euthyclos,  "it  is  grim 
hearing  that  we  must  fight  with  you.  But  since 
your  will  is  our  will,  we  must  endure  this  testing, 
although  we  find  it  bitter  as  aloes  and  hot  as  coals. 
Dear  lord  and  master,  none  has  put  food  to  his  lips 
for  whose  sake  we  would  harm  you  willingly,  and 
we  shall  weep  to-night  when  your  ghost  passes  over, 
and  through  us." 

Demetrios  answered: 

"Rise  up  and  leave  this  idleness !  It  is  I  that  will 
clip  the  ends  of  my  hair  to-night  for  the  love  of  you, 
my  stalwart  knaves.  Such  weeping  as  is  done  your 
wounds  will  perform." 

At  that  they  addressed  themselves  to  battle,  and 
Melicent  perceived  she  was  witnessing  no  child's 
play.  The  soldiers  had  attacked  in  unison,  and  be- 
fore the  onslaught  Demetrios  stepped  lightly  back. 
But  his  sword  flashed  as  he  moved,  and  with  a  grunt 
Demetrios,  leaning  far  forward,  dug  deep  into  the 
throat  of  his  foremost  assailant.  The  sword  pene- 
trated and  caught  in  a  link  of  the  gold  chain  about 


A  CHATTEL  IS  HELD  143 

the  fellow's  neck,  so  that  Demetrios  was  forced  to 
wrench  the  weapon  free,  twisting  it,  as  the  dying 
man  stumbled  backward.  Prostrate,  the  soldier  did 
not  cry  out,  but  only  writhed  and  gave  a  curious 
bubbling  noise  as  his  soul  passed. 

"Come,"  Demetrios  said,  "come  now,  you  others, 
and  see  what  you  can  win  of  me.  I  warn  you  it 
will  be  dearly  purchased." 

And  Melicent  turned  away,  hiding  her  eyes.  She 
was  obscurely  conscious  that  a  wanton  butchery- 
went  on,  hearing  its  blows  and  groans  as  if  from 
a  great  distance,  while  she  entreated  the  Virgin  for 
deliverance  from  this  foul  place. 

Then  a  hand  fell  upon  Melicent's  shoulder,  rous- 
ing her.  It  was  Demetrios.  He  breathed  quickly, 
but  his  voice  was  gentle. 

"It  is  enough,"  he  said.  "I  shall  not  greatly  need 
Flamberge  when  I  encounter  that  ruddy  innocent 
who  is  so  dear  to  you." 

He  broke  off.  Then  he  spoke  again,  half  jeering, 
half  wistful.  Said  Demetrios: 

"I  had  hoped  that  you  would  look  on  and  admire 
my  cunning  at  swordplay.  I  was  anxious  to  seem 
admirable  somehow  in  your  eyes.  ...  I  failed.  I 
know  very  well  that  I  shall  always  fail.  I  know 


144  DOMNEI 

that  Nacumera  will  fall,  that  some  day  in  your  na- 
tive land  people  will  say,  'That  aged  woman  yonder 
was  once  the  wife  of  Demetrios  of  Anatolia,  who 
was  pre-eminent  among  the  heathen.'  Then  they 
will  tell  of  how  I  cleft  the  head  of  an  Emperor  who 
had  likened  me  to  Priapos,  and  how  I  dragged  his 
successor  from  behind  an  arras  where  he  hid  from 
me,  to  set  him  upon  the  throne  I  did  not  care  to  take ; 
and  they  will  tell  how  for  a  while  great  fortune 
went  with  me,  and  I  ruled  over  much  land,  and  was 
dreaded  upon  the  wide  sea,  and  raised  the  battlecry 
in  cities  that  were  not  my  own,  fearing  nobody.  But 
you  will  not  think  of  these  matters,  you  will  think 
only  of  your  children's  ailments,  of  baking  and  sew- 
ing and  weaving  tapestries,  and  of  directing  little 
household  tasks.  And  the  spider  will  spin  her  web 
in  my  helmet,  which  will  hang  as  a  trophy  in  the 
hall  of  Messire  de  la  Foret." 

Then  he  walked  beside  her  into  the  Women's 
Garden,  keeping  silence  for  a  while.  He  seemed  to 
deliberate,  to  reach  a  decision.  All  at  once  Deme- 
trios began  to  tell  of  that  magnanimous  contest 
which  he  had  fought  out  in  Theodoret's  country 
with  Perion  of  the  Forest. 

"To  do  the  long-legged  fellow  simple  justice," 
said  the  proconsul,  as  epilogue,  "there  is  no  hardier 


A  CHATTEL  IS  HELD  145 

knight  alive.  I  shall  always  wonder  whether  or  no 
I  would  have  spared  him  had  the  water-demon's 
daughter  not  intervened  in  his  behalf.  Yes,  I  have 
had  some  previous  dealings  with  her.  Perhaps  the 
less  said  concerning  them,  the  better."  Demetrios 
reflected  for  a  while,  rather  sadly;  then  his  swart 
face  cleared.  "Give  thanks,  my  wife,  that  I  have 
found  an  enemy  who  is  not  unworthy  of  me.  He 
will  come  soon,  I  think,  and  then  we  will  fight  to 
the  death.  I  hunger  for  that  day." 

All  praise  of  Perion,  however  worded,  was  as 
wine  to  Melicent.  Demetrios  saw  as  much,  noted 
how  the  colour  in  her  cheeks  augmented  delicately, 
how  her  eyes  grew  kindlier.  It  was  his  cue.  There- 
after Demetrios  very  often  spoke  of  Perion  in  that 
locked  palace  where  no  echo  of  the  outer  world 
might  penetrate  except  at  the  proconsul's  will.  He 
told  Melicent,  in  an  unfeigned  admiration,  of  Pe- 
rion's  courage  and  activity,  declaring  that  no  other 
captain  since  the  days  of  those  famous  generals, 
Hannibal  and  Joshua,  could  lay  claim  to  such  pre- 
eminence in  general  estimation ;  and  Demetrios  nar- 
rated how  the  Free  Companions  had  ridden  through 
many  kingdoms  at  adventure,  serving  many  lords 
with  valour  and  always  fighting  applaudably.  To 
talk  of  Perion  delighted  Melicent :  it  was  with  such 


146  DOMNEI 

bribes  that  Demetrios  purchased  where  his  riches 
did  not  avail;  and  Melicent  no  longer  avoided  him. 

There  is  scope  here  for  compassion.  The  man's 
love,  if  it  be  possible  so  to  call  that  force  which 
mastered  him,  had  come  to  be  an  incessant  malady. 
It  poisoned  everything,  caused  him  to  find  his  state- 
craft tedious,  his  power  profitless,  and  his  vices 
gloomy.  But  chief  of  all  he  fretted  over  the  stand- 
ards by  which  the  lives  of  Melicent  and  Perion  were 
guided.  Demetrios  thought  these  criteria  comely, 
he  had  discovered  them  to  be  unshakable,  and  he 
despairingly  knew  that  as  long  as  he  trusted  in  the 
judgment  heaven  gave  him  they  must  always  ap- 
pear to  him  supremely  idiotic.  To  bring  Melicent 
to  his  own  level  or  to  bring  himself  to  hers  was 
equally  impossible.  There  were  moments  when  he 
hated  her. 

Thus  the  months  passed,  and  the  happenings  of 
another  year  were  chronicled;  and  as  yet  neither 
Perion  nor  Ayrart  de  Montors  came  to  Nacumera, 
and  the  long  plain  before  the  citadel  stayed  tenant- 
less  save  for  the  jackals  crying  there  at  night. 

"I  wonder  that  my  enemies  do  not  come,"  De- 
metrios said.  "It  cannot  be  they  have  forgotten  you 
and  me.  That  is  impossible."  He  frowned  and 
sent  spies  into  Christendom. 


22. 

How  Misery  Held  Nacumera 


THEN  one  day  Demetrios  came  to  Melicent, 
and  he  was  in  a  surly  rage. 

"Rogues  all!"  he  grumbled.  "Oh,  I  am 
wasted  in  this  paltry  age.  Where  are  the  giants  and 
tyrants,  and  stalwart  single-hearted  champions  of 
yesterday?  Why,  they  are  dead,  and  have  become 
rotten  bones.  I  will  fight  no  longer.  I  will  read 
legends  instead,  for  life  nowadays  is  no  longer 
worthy  of  love  or  hatred." 

Melicent  questioned  him,  and  he  told  how  his 
spies  reported  that  the  Cardinal  de  Montors  could 
now  not  ever  head  an  expedition  against  Demetrios' 
territories.  The  Pope  had  died  suddenly  in  the 
course  of  the  preceding  October,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary to  name  his  successor.  The  College  of  Car- 
dinals had  reached  no  decision  after  three  days'  bal- 
loting. Then,  as  is  notorious,  Dame  Melusine,  as 

147 


148  DOMNEI 

always  hand  in  glove  with  Ayrart  de  Mentors,  held 
conference  with  the  bishop  who  inspected  the  car- 
dinals' dinner  before  it  was  carried  into  the  apart- 
ments where  these  prelates  were  imprisoned  together 
until,  in  edifying  seclusion  from  all  worldly  influ- 
ences, they  should  have  prayerfully  selected  the  next 
Pope. 

The  Cardinal  of  Genoa  received  on  the  fourth 
day  a  chicken  stuffed  with  a  deed  to  the  palaces 
of  Monticello  and  Soriano;  the  Cardinal  of  Parma 
a  similarly  dressed  fowl  which  made  him  master 
of  the  bishop's  residence  at  Porto  with  its  furni- 
ture and  wine-cellar;  while  the  Cardinals  Orsino, 
Savelli,  St.  Angelo  and  Colonna  were  served  with 
food  of  the  same  ingratiating  sort.  Such  nourish- 
ment cured  them  of  indecision,  and  Ayrart  de  Mon- 
tors  had  presently  ascended  the  papal  throne  under 
the  title  of  Adrian  VII,  servant  to  the  servants  of 
God.  His  days  of  military  captaincy  were  over. 

Demetrios  deplored  the  loss  of  a  formidable  ad- 
versary, and  jeered  at  the  fact  that  the  vicarship 
of  heaven  had  been  settled  by  six  hens.  But  he 
particularly  fretted  over  other  news  his  spies  had 
brought,  which  was  the  information  that  Perion 
had  wedded  Dame  Melusine,  and  had  begotten  two 


MISERY  HOLDS  ALL  149 

lusty  children — Bertram  and  a  daughter  called 
Blaniferte — and  now  enjoyed  the  opulence  and  sov- 
ereignty of  Brunbelois. 

Demetrios  told  this  unwillingly.  He  turned  away 
his  eyes  in  speaking,  and  doggedly  affected  to  re- 
arrange a  cushion,  so  that  he  might  not  see  the  face 
of  Melicent.  She  noted  his  action  and  was  grateful. 

Demetrios  said,  bitterly: 

"It  is  an  old  and  tawdry  history.  He  has  for- 
gotten you,  Melicent,  as  a  wise  man  will  always  put 
aside  the  dreams  of  his  youth.  To  Cynara  the  Fates 
accord  but  a  few  years;  a  wanton  Lyce  laughs, 
cheats  her  adorers,  and  outlives  the  crow.  There 
is  an  unintended  moral  here — "  Demetrios  said, 
"Yet  you  do  not  forget." 

"I  know  nothing  as  to  this  Perion  you  tell  me 
of.  I  only  know  the  Perion  I  loved  has  not  for- 
gotten," answered  Melicent. 

And  Demetrios,  evincing  a  twinge  like  that  of 
gout,  demanded  her  reasons.  It  was  a  May  morn- 
ing, very  hot  and  still,  and  Demetrios  sat  with  his 
Christian  wife  in  the  Court  of  Stars. 

Said  Melicent: 

"It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  Perion  men  know  to- 
day has  forgotten  me  and  the  service  which  I  joyed 


150  DOMNEI 


to  render  Perion.  Let  him  who  would  understand 
the  mystery  of  the  Crucifixion  first  become  a  lover ! 
I  pray  for  old  sake's  sake  that  Perion  and  his  lady 
may  taste  of  every  prosperity.  Indeed,  I  do  not 
envy  her.  Rather  I  pity  her,  because  last  night  I 
wandered  through  a  certain  forest  hand-in-hand 
with  a  young  Perion,  whose  excellencies  she  will 
never  know  as  I  know  them  in  our  own  woods." 

Said  Demetrios,  "Do  you  console  yourself  with 
dreams  ?"  The  swart  man  grinned. 

Melicent  said: 

"Now  it  is  always  twilight  in  these  woods,  and 
the  light  there  is  neither  green  nor  gold,  but  both 
colours  intermingled.  It  is  like  a  friendly  cloak 
for  all  who  have  been  unhappy,  even  very  long  ago. 
Iseult  is  there,  and  Thisbe,  too,  and  many  others, 
and  they  are  not  severed  from  their  lovers  now.  .  .  . 
Sometimes  Dame  Venus  passes,  riding  upon  a  pan- 
ther, and  low-hanging  leaves  clutch  at  her  tender 
flesh.  Then  Perion  and  I  peep  from  a  coppice,  and 
are  very  glad  and  a  little  frightened  in  the  heart 
of  our  own  woods." 

Said  Demetrios,  "Do  you  console  yourself  with 
madness?"  He  showed  no  sign  of  mirth. 

Melicent  said : 

"Ah,  no,  the  Perion  whom  Melusine  possesses  is 


MISERY  HOLDS  ALL  151 

but  a  man — a  very  happy  man,  I  pray  of  God  and 
all  His  saints.  I  am  the  luckier,  who  may  not  ever 
lose  the  Perion  that  to-day  is  mine  alone.  And 
though  I  may  not  ever  touch  this  younger  Perion's 
hands — and  their  palms  were  as  hard  as  leather  in 
that  dear  time  now  overpast — or  see  again  his  hon- 
est and  courageous  face,  the  most  beautiful  among 
all  the  faces  of  men  and  women  I  have  ever  seen, 
I  do  not  grieve  immeasurably,  for  nightly  we  walk 
hand-in-hand  in  our  own  woods." 

Demetrios  said,  "Ay;  and  then  night  passes,  and 
dawn  comes  to  light  my  face,  which  is  the  most 
hideous  to  you  among  all  the  faces  of  men  and 
women !" 

But  Melicent  said  only: 

"Seignior,  although  the  severing  daylight  endures 
for  a  long  while,  I  must  be  brave  and  worthy  of 
Perion's  love — nay,  rather,  of  the  love  he  gave  me 
once.  I  may  not  grieve  so  long  as  no  one  else 
dares  enter  into  our  own  woods." 

"Now  go,"  cried  the  proconsul,  when  she  had 
done,  and  he  had  noted  her  soft,  deep,  devoted  gaze 
at  one  who  was  not  there;  "now  go  before  I  slay 
you !"  And  this  new  Demetrios  whom  she  then  saw 
was  featured  like  a  devil  in  sore  torment. 

Wonderingly  Melicent  obeyed  him. 


152  DOMNEI 

Thought  Melicent,  who  was  too  proud  to  show 
her  anguish: 

"I  could  have  borne  aught  else,  but  this  I  am  too 
cowardly  to  bear  without  complaint.  I  am  a  very 
contemptible  person.  I  ought  to  love  this  Melusine, 
who  no  doubt  loves  her  husband  quite  as  much  as 
I  love  him — how  could  a  woman  do  less? — and  yet 
I  cannot  love  her.  I  can  only  weep  that  I,  robbed 
of  all  joy,  and  with  no  children  to  bewail  me,  must 
travel  very  tediously  toward  death,  a  friendless  per- 
son cursed  by  fate,  while  this  Melusine  laughs  with 
her  children.  She  has  two  children,  as  Demetrios 
reports.  I  think  the  boy  must  be  the  more  like 
Perion.  I  think  she  must  be  very  happy  when  she 
lifts  that  boy  into  her  lap/' 

Thus  Melicent ;  and  her  full-blooded  husband  was 
not  much  more  light-hearted.  He  went  away  from 
Nacumera  shortly,  in  a  shaking  rage  which  robbed 
him  of  his  hands'  control,  intent  to  kill  and  pil- 
lage, and,  in  fine,  to  make  all  other  persons  share 
his  misery. 


23- 

How  Demetrios  Cried  Farewell 


AND  then  one  day,  when  the  proconsul  had 
been    absent    some    six    weeks,    Ahasuerus 
fetched  Dame  Melicent  into  the  Court  of 
Stars.    Demetrios  lay  upon  the  divan  supported  by 
many  pillows,  as  though  he  had  not  ever  stirred 
since  that  first  day  when  an  unfettered  Melicent, 
who  was  a  princess  then,  exulted  in  her  youth  and 
comeliness. 

"Stand  there,"  he  said,  and  did  not  move  at  all, 
"that  I  may  see  my  purchase." 

And  presently  he  smiled,  though  wryly.  Deme- 
trios said  next: 

"Of  my  own  will  I  purchased  misery.  Yea,  and 
death  also.  It  is  amusing.  .  .  .  Two  days  ago,  in 
a  brief  skirmish,  a  league  north  of  Calonak,  the 
Prankish  leader  met  me  hand  to  hand.  He  has  en- 
deavoured to  do  this  for  a  long  while.  I  also  wished 
it.  Nothing  could  be  sweeter  than  to  feel  the  horse 

153 


154  DOMNEI 

beneath  me  wading  in  his  blood,  I  thought.  .  .  .  Ey, 
well,  he  dismounted  me  at  the  first  encounter, 
though  I  am  no  weakling.  I  cannot  understand 
quite  how  it  happened.  Pious  people  will  say  some 
deity  was  offended,  but,  for  my  part,  I  think  my 
horse  stumbled.  It  does  not  seem  to  matter  now. 
What  really  matters,  more  or  less,  is  that  it  would 
appear  the  man  broke  my  backbone  as  one  snaps  a 
straw,  since  I  cannot  move  a  limb  of  me." 

"Seignior,"  said  Melicent,  "you  mean  that  you 
are  dying!" 

He  answered,  "Yes ;  but  it  is  a  trivial  discomfort, 
now  I  see  that  it  grieves  you  a  little." 

She  spoke  his  name  some  three  times,  sobbing. 
It  was  in  her  mind  even  then  how  strange  the  hap- 
pening was  that  she  should  grieve  for  Demetrios. 

"O  Melicent,"  he  harshly  said,  "let  us  have  done 
with  lies !  That  Prankish  captain  who  has  brought 
about  my  death  is  Perion  de  la  Foret.  He  has  not 
ever  faltered  in  the  duel  between  us  since  your  paltry 
emeralds  paid  for  his  first  armament. — Why,  yes, 
I  lied.  I  always  hoped  the  man  would  do  as  in  his 
place  I  would  have  done.  I  hoped  in  vain.  For 
many  long  and  hard-fought  years  this  handsome 
maniac  has  been  assailing  Nacumera,  tirelessly. 
Then  the  water-demon's  daughter,  that  strange  and 


FAREWELL  IS  CRIED  155 

wayward  woman  of  Brunbelois,  attempted  to  en- 
snare him.  And  that  too  was  in  vain.  She  failed, 
my  spies  reported — even  Dame  Melusine,  who  had 
not  ever  failed  before  in  such  endeavours." 

"But  certainly  the  foul  witch  failed !"  cried  Meli- 
cent.  A  glorious  change  had  come  into  her  face, 
and  she  continued,  quite  untruthfully,  "Nor  did  I 
ever  believe  that  this  vile  woman  had  made  Perion 
prove  faithless." 

"No,  the  fool's  lunacy  is  rock,  like  yours.  En 
cor  gentil  domnei  per  mart  no  passa,  as  they  sing 
in  your  native  country.  .  .  .  Ey,  how  indomitably 
I  lied,  what  pains  I  took,  lest  you  should  ever  know 
of  this!  And  now  it  does  not  seem  to  matter  any 
more.  .  .  .  The  love  this  man  bears  for  you," 
snarled  Demetrios,  "is  sprung  of  the  High  God 
whom  we  diversely  worship.  The  love  I  bear  you 
is  human,  since  I,  too,  am  only  human."  And  De- 
metrics  chuckled.  "Talk,  and  talk,  and  talk !  There 
is  no  bird  in  any  last  year's  nest." 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  unmoved  hand,  and 
found  it  cold  and  swollen.  She  wept  to  see  the 
broken  tyrant,  who  to  her  at  least  had  been  not  all 
unkind. 

He  said,  with  a  great  hunger  in  his  eyes : 

"So  likewise  ends  the  duel  which  was  fought  be- 


156  DOMNEI 

tween  us  two.  I  would  salute  the  victor  if  I  could. 
.  .  .  Ey,  Melicent,  I  still  consider  you  and  Perion 
are  fools.  We  have  a  not  intolerable  world  to  live 
in,  and  common-sense  demands  we  make  the  most 
of  every  tidbit  this  world  affords.  Yet  you  can  find 
in  it  only  an  exercising-ground  for  infatuation,  and 
in  all  its  contents — pleasures  and  pains  alike — only 
so.  many  obstacles  for  rapt  insanity  to  override.  I 
do  not  understand  this  mania ;  I  would  I  might  have 
known  it,  none  the  less.  Always  I  envied  you 
more  than  I  loved  you.  Always  my  desire  was 
less  to  win  the  love  of  Melicent  than  to  love  Meli- 
cent as  Melicent  loved  Perion.  I  was  incapable  of 
this.  Yet  I  have  loved  you.  That  was  the  reason, 
I  believe,  I  put  aside  my  purchased  toy."  It  seemed 
to  puzzle  him. 

"Fair  friend,  it  is  the  most  honourable  of  rea- 
sons. You  have  done  chivalrously.  In  this,  at 
least,  you  have  done  that  which  would  be  not  un- 
worthy of  Perion  de  la  Foret."  A  woman  never 
avid  for  strained  subtleties,  it  may  be  that  she 
never  understood,  quite,  why  Demetrios  laughed. 

He  said : 

"I  mean  to  serve  you  now,  as  I  had  always 
meant  to  serve  you  some  day.  Ey,  yes,  I  think  I 
always  meant  to  give  you  back  to  Perion  as  a  free 


FAREWELL  IS  CRIED  157 

gift.  Meanwhile  to  see,  and  to  writhe  in  seeing 
your  perfection,  has  meant  so  much  to  me  that 
daily  I  have  delayed  such  a  transfiguration  of  my- 
self until  to-morrow."  The  man  grimaced.  "My 
son  Orestes,  who  will  presently  succeed  me,  has 
been  summoned.  I  will  order  that  he  conduct  you 
at  once  into  Perion' s  camp — yonder  by  Quesiton. 
I  think  I  shall  not  live  three  days." 

"I  would  not  leave  you,  friend,  until — " 

His  grin  was  commentary  and  completion  equally. 
Demetrios  observed: 

"A  dead  dog  has  no  teeth  wherewith  to  serve  even 
virtue.  Oh,  no,  my  women  hate  you  far  too  greatly. 
You  must  go  straightway  to  this  Perion,  while 
Demetrios  of  Anatolia  is  alive,  or  else  not  ever  go." 

She  had  no  words.  She  wept,  and  less  for  joy 
of  winning  home"  to  Perion  at  last  than  for  her 
grief  that  Demetrios  was  dying.  Woman-like,  she 
could  remember  only  that  the  man  had  loved  her 
in  his  fashion.  And,  woman-like,  she  could  but 
wonder  at  the  strength  of  Perion. 

Then  Demetrios  said : 

"I  must  depart  into  a  doubtful  exile.  I  have 
been  powerful  and  valiant,  I  have  laughed  loud,  I 
have  drunk  deep,  but  heaven  no  longer  wishes  De- 
metrios to  exist.  I  am  unable  to  support  my  sad- 


158  DOMNEI 


ness,  so  near  am  I  to  my  departure  from  all  I  have 
loved.  I  cry  farewell  to  all  diversions  and  sports, 
to  well- fought  battles,  to  furred  robes  of  vair  and  of 
silk,  to  noisy  merriment,  to  music,  to  vain-gloriously 
coloured  gems,  and  to  brave  deeds  in  open  sunlight ; 
for  I  desire — and  I  entreat  of  every  person — only 
compassion  and  pardon. 

"Chiefly  I  grieve  because  I  must  leave  Melicent 
behind  me,  unfriended  in  a  perilous  land,  and  aban- 
doned, it  may  be,  to  the  malice  of  those  who  wish 
her  ill.  I  was  a  noted  warrior,  I  was  mighty  of 
muscle,  and  I  could  have  defended  her  stoutly.  But 
I  lie  broken  in  the  hand  of  Destiny.  It  is  necessary 
I  depart  into  the  place  where  sinners,  whether 
crowned  or  ragged,  must  seek  for  unearned  mercy. 
I  cry  farewell  to  all  that  I  have  loved,  to  all  that 
I  have  injured;  and  so  in  chief  to  you,  dear  Meli- 
cent, I  cry  farewell,  and  of  you  in  chief  I  crave 
compassion  and  pardon. 

"O  eyes  and  hair  and  lips  of  Melicent,  that  I 
have  loved  so  long,  I  do  not  hunger  for  you  now. 
Yet,  as  a  dying  man,  I  cry  to  the  clean  soul  of  Meli- 
cent— the  only  adversary  that  in  all  my  lifetime 
I  who  was  once  Demetrios  could  never  conquer.  A 
ravening  beast  was  I,  and  as  a  beast  I  raged  to  see 
you  so  unlike  me.  And  now,  a  dying  beast,  I  cry 


FAREWELL  IS  CRIED  159 


to  you,  but  not  for  love,  since  that  is  overpast.  I 
cry  for  pity  that  I  have  not  earned,  for  pardon 
which  I  have  not  merited.  Conquered  and  impotent, 
I  cry  to  you,  O  soul  of  Melicent,  for  compassion 
and  pardon. 

"Melicent,  it  may  be  that  when  I  am  dead,  when 
nothing  remains  of  Demetrios  except  his  tomb,  you 
will  comprehend  I  loved,  even  while  I  hated,  what 
is  divine  in  you.  Then  since  you  are  a  woman,  you 
will  lift  your  lover's  face  between  your  hands,  as 
you  have  never  lifted  my  face,  Melicent,  and  you 
will  tell  him  of  my  folly  merrily;  yet  since  you 
are  a  woman,  you  will  sigh  afterward,  and  you 
will  not  deny  me  compassion  and  pardon." 

She  gave  him  both — she  who  was  prodigal  of 
charity.  Orestes  came,  with  Ahasuerus  at  his  heels, 
and  Demetrios  sent  Melicent  into  the  Women's 
Garden,  so  that  father  and  son  might  talk  together. 
She  waited  in  this  place  for  a  half-hour,  just  as 
the  proconsul  had  commanded  her,  obeying  him  for 
the  last  time.  It  was  strange  to  think  of  that. 

It  was  not  gladness  which  Melicent  knew  for  a 
brief  while.  Rather,  it  was  a  strange  new  compre- 
hension of  the  world.  To  Melicent  the  world  seemed 
very  lovely. 


160  DOMNEI 

Indeed,  the  Women's  Garden  on  this  morning 
lacked  nothing  to  delight  each  sense.  Its  hedges 
were  of  flowering  jessamine;  its  walkways  were 
spread  with  new  sawdust  tinged  with  crocus  and 
vermilion  and  with  mica  beaten  into  a  powder;  and 
the  place  was  rich  in  fruit-bearing  trees  and  welling 
waters.  The  sun  shone,  and  birds  chaunted  mer- 
rily to  the  right  hand  and  to  the  left.  Dog-headed 
apes,  sacred  to  the  moon,  were  chattering  in  the 
trees.  There  was  a  statue  in  this  place,  carved  out 
of  black  stone,  in  the  likeness  of  a  woman,  having 
enamelled  eyes  and  three  rows  of  breasts,  with 
the  lower  part  of  her  body  confined  in  a  sheath; 
and  upon  the  glistening  pedestal  of  this  statue 
chameleons  sunned  themselves  with  distended 
throats.  Round  about  Melicent  were  nodding  arma- 
ments of  roses  and  gillyflowers  and  narcissi  and 
amaranths,  and  many  violets  and  white  lilies,  and 
other  flowers  of  all  kinds  and  colours. 

To  Melicent  the  world  seemed  very  lovely.  Here 
was  a  world  created  by  Eternal  Love  that  people 
might  serve  love  in  it  not  all  unworthily.  Here 
were  anguishes  to  be  endured,  and  time  and  human 
frailty  and  temporal  hardship — all  for  love  to  mock 
at;  a  sea  or  two  for  love  to  sever,  a  man-made 
law  or  so  for  love  to  override,  a  shallow  wisdom 


FAREWELL  IS  CRIED  161 

for  love  to  deny,  in  exultance  that  these  ills  at  most 
were  only  corporal  hindrances.  This  done,  you 
have  earned  the  right  to  come — come  hand-in-hand 
• — to  heaven  whose  liege-lord  was  Eternal  Love. 

Thus  Melicent,  who  knew  that  Perion  loved  her. 

She  sat  on  a  stone  bench.  She  combed  her  golden 
hair,  not  heeding  the  more  coarse  gray  hairs  which 
here  and  there  were  apparent  nowadays.  A  peacock 
came  and  watched  her  with  bright,  hard,  small  eyes ; 
and  he  craned  his  glistening  neck  this  way  and  that 
way,  as  though  he  were  wondering  at  this  other 
shining  and  gaily  coloured  creature,  who  seemed  so 
happy. 

She  did  not  dare  to  think  of  seeing  Perion  again. 
Instead,  she  made  because  of  him  a  little  song, 
which  had  not  any  words,  so  that  it  is  not  possible 
here  to  retail  this  song. 

Thus  Melicent,  who  knew  that  Perion  loved  her. 


24. 

How  Orestes  Ruled 


MELICENT  returned  into  the  Court  of  Stars ; 
and  as  she  entered,  Orestes  lifted  one  of  the 
red  cushions  from  Demetrios'  face.  The 
eyes  of  Ahasuerus,  who  stood  by  negligently,  were 
as  expressionless  as  the  eyes  of  a  snake. 

"The  great  proconsul  laid  an  inconvenient  man- 
date upon  me,"  said  Orestes.  "The  great  proconsul 
has  been  removed  from  us  in  order  that  his  splen- 
dour may  enhance  the  glories  of  Elysium." 

She  saw  that  the  young  man  had  smothered  his 
own  father  in  the  flesh  as  Demetrios  lay  helpless; 
and  knew  thereby  that  Orestes  was  indeed  the  son 
of  Demetrios. 

"Go,"  this  Orestes  said  thereafter;  "go,  and  re- 
member I  am  master  here." 

Said  Melicent,  "And  by  which  door?"  A  little 
hope  there  was  as  yet. 

162 


ORESTES  RULES  163 

But  he,  as  half  in  shame,  had  pointed  to  the 
entrance  of  the  Women's  Garden.  "I  have  no  en- 
mity against  you,  outlander.  Yet  my  mother  desires 
to  talk  with  you.  Also  there  is  some  bargaining 
to  be  completed  with  Ahasuerus  here." 

Then  Melicent  knew  what  had  prompted  the  pro- 
consul's murder.  It  seemed  unfair  Callistion 
should  hate  her  with  such  bitterness;  yet  Melicent 
remembered  certain  thoughts  concerning  Dame 
Melusine,  and  did  not  wonder  at  Callistion's  mania 
half  so  much  as  did  Callistion's  son. 

"I  must  endure  discomfort  and,  it  may  be,  tor- 
ture for  a  little  longer,"  said  Melicent,  and  laughed 
whole-heartedly.  "Oh,  but  to-day  I  find  a  cure 
for  every  ill,"  said  Melicent;  and  thereupon  she 
left  Orestes  as  a  princess  should. 

But  first  she  knelt  by  that  which  yesterday  had 
been  her  master. 

"I  have  no  word  of  praise  or  blame  to  give  you 
in  farewell.  You  were  not  admirable,  Demetrios. 
But  you  depart  upon  a  fearful  journey,  and  in  my 
heart  there  is  just  memory  of  the  long  years  wherein 
according  to  your  fashion  you  were  kind  to  me. 
A  bargain  is  a  bargain.  I  sold  with  open  eyes  that 
which  you  purchased.  I  may  not  reproach  you." 

Then  Melicent  lifted  the  dead  face  between  her 


164  DOMNEI 

hands,  as  mothers  caress  their  boys  in  questioning 
them. 

"I  would  I  had  done  this  when  you  were  living," 
said  Melicent,  "because  I  understand  now  that  you 
loved  me  in  your  fashion.  And  I  pray  that  you 
may  know  I  am  the  happiest  woman  in  the  world, 
because  I  think  this  knowledge  would  now  gladden 
you.  I  go  to  slavery,  Demetrios,  where  I  was  queen, 
I  go  to  hardship,  and  it  may  be  that  I  go  to  death. 
But  I  have  learned  this  assuredly — that  love  endures, 
that  the  strong  knot  which  unites  my  heart  and 
Perion's  heart  can  never  be  untied.  Oh,  living  is 
a  higher  thing  than  you  or  I  had  dreamed !  And  I 
have  in  my  heart  just  pity,  poor  Demetrios,  for 
you  who  never  found  the  love  of  which  I  must  en- 
deavour to  be  worthy.  A  curse  was  I  to  you  un- 
willingly, as  you — I  now  believe — have  been  to  me 
against  your  will.  So  at  the  last  I  turn  anew  to 
bargaining,  and  cry — in  your  deaf  ears — Pardon  for 
pardon,  O  Demetrios!" 

Then  Melicent  kissed  pitiable  lips  which  would 
not  ever  sneer  again,  and,  rising,  passed  into  the 
Women's  Garden,  proudly  and  unafraid. 

Ahasuerus  shrugged  so  patiently  that  she  was 
half  afraid.  Then,  as  a  cloud  passes,  she  saw  that 
all  further  bufferings  would  of  necessity  be  trivial. 


ORESTES  RULES  165 

For  Perion,  as  she  now  knew,  was  very  near  to 
her — single  of  purpose,  clean  of  hands,  and  filled 
with  such  a  love  as  thrilled  her  with  delicious  fears 
of  her  own  poor  unworthiness. 


25- 

How  Women  Talked  Together 


DAME  MELICENT  walked  proudly  through 
the  Women's  Garden,  and  presently  entered 
a  grove  of  orange  trees,  the  most  of  which 
were  at  this  season  about  their  flowering.  In  this 
place  was  an  artificial  pool  by  which  the  trees  were 
nourished.  On  its  embankment  sprawled  the  body 
of  young  Diophantus,  a  child  of  some  ten  years  of 
age,  Demetrios'  son  by  Tryphera.  Orestes  had 
strangled  Diophantus  in  order  that  there  might  be 
no  rival  to  Orestes'  claims.  The  lad  lay  on  his  back, 
and  his  left  arm  hung  elbow-deep  in  the  water, 
which  swayed  it  gently. 

Callistion  sat  beside  the  corpse  and  stroked  its 
limp  right  hand.  She  had  hated  the  boy  through- 
out his  brief  and  merry  life.  She  thought  now 
of  his  likeness  to  Demetrios. 

She  raised  toward  Melicent  the  dilated  eyes  of 
166 


WOMEN  TALK  167 


one  who  has  just  come  from  a  dark  place.  Callis- 
tion  said: 

"And  so  Demetrios  is  dead.  I  thought  I  would 
be  glad  when  I  said  that.  Hah,  it  is  strange  I 
am  not  glad." 

She  rose,  as  though  with  hard  effort,  as  a  de- 
crepit person  might  have  done.  You  saw  that  she 
was  dressed  in  a  long  gown  of  black,  pleated  to  the 
knees,  having  no  clasp  or  girdle,  and  bare  of  any 
ornamentation  except  a  gold  star  on  each  breast. 

Callistion  said: 

"Now,  through  my  son,  I  reign  in  Nacumera. 
There  is  no  person  who  dares  disobey  me.  There- 
fore, come  close  to  me  that  I  may  see  the  beauty 
which  besotted  this  Demetrios,  whom,  I  think  now, 
I  must  have  loved." 

"Oh,  gaze  your  fill,"  said  Melicent,  "and  know 
that  had  you  possessed  a  tithe  of  my  beauty  you 
might  have  held  the  heart  of  Demetrios."  For  it 
was  in  Melicent's  mind  to  provoke  the  woman  into 
killing  her  before  worse  befell. 

But  Callistion  only  studied  the  proud  face  for  a 
long  while,  and  knew  there  was  no  lovelier  person 
between  two  seas.  For  time  here  had  pillaged  very 
sparingly;  and  if  Dame  Melicent  had  not  any  longer 
the  first  beauty  of  her  girlhood,  Callistion  had  no- 


168  DOMNEI 

where  seen  a  woman  more  handsome  than  this  hated 
Prankish  thief. 

Callistion  said: 

"No,  I  was  not  ever  so  beautiful  as  you.  Yet  this 
Demetrios  loved  me  when  I,  too,  was  lovely.  You 
never  saw  the  man  in  battle.  I  saw  him,  single- 
handed,  fight  with  Abradas  and  three  other  knaves 
who  stole  me  from  my  mother's  home — oh,  very 
long  ago!  He  killed  all  four  of  them.  He  was 
like  a  horrible  unconquerable  god  when  he  turned 
from  that  finished  fight  to  me.  He  kissed  me 
then — blood-smeared,  just  as  he  was.  ...  I  like 
to  think  of  how  he  laughed  and  of  how  strong 
he  was." 

The  woman  turned  and  crouched  by  the  dead 
boy,  and  seemed  painstakingly  to  appraise  her  own 
reflection  on  the  water's  surface. 

"It  is  gone  now,  the  comeliness  Demetrios  was 
pleased  to  like.  I  would  have  waded  Acheron — 
singing — rather  than  let  his  little  finger  ache.  He 
knew  as  much.  Only  it  seemed  a  trifle,  because 
your  eyes  were  bright  and  your  fair  skin  was  un- 
wrinkled.  In  consequence  the  man  is  dead.  Oh, 
Melicent,  I  wonder  why  I  am  so  sad!" 

Callistion's  meditative  eyes  were  dry,  but  those  of 
Melicent  were  not.  And  Melicent  came  to  the 


WOMEN  TALK  169 


Dacian  woman,  and  put  one  arm  about  her  in  that 
dim,  sweet-scented  place,  saying,  "I  never  meant 
to  wrong  you." 

Callistion  did  not  seem  to  heed.  Then  Callistion 
said: 

"See  now!  Do  you  not  see  the  difference  be- 
tween us !"  These  two  were  kneeling  side  by  side, 
and  each  looked  into  the  water. 

Callistion  said: 

"I  do  not  wonder  that  Demetrios  loved  you.  He 
loved  at  odd  times  many  women.  He  loved  the 
mother  of  this  carrion  here.  But  afterward  he 
would  come  back  to  me,  and  lie  asprawl  at  my  feet 
with  his  big  crafty  head  between  my  knees;  and 
I  would  stroke  his  hair,  and  we  would  talk  of  the 
old  days  when  we  were  young.  He  never  spoke  of 
you.  I  cannot  pardon  that." 

"I  know,"  said  Melicent.  Their  cheeks  touched 
now. 

"There  is  only  one  master  who  could  teach  you 
that  drear  knowledge — " 

"There  is  but  one,  Callistion." 

"The  man  would  be  tall,  I  think.  He  would,  I 
know,  have  thick,  brown,  curling  hair — " 

"He  has  black  hair,  Callistion.  It  glistens  like  a 
raven's  wing." 


170  DOMNEI 

"His  face  would  be  all  pink  and  white,  like 
yours — " 

"No,  tanned  like  yours,  Callistion.  Oh,  he  is 
like  an  eagle,  very  resolute.  His  glance  bedwarfs 
you.  I  used  to  be  afraid  to  look  at  him,  even  when 
I  saw  how  foolishly  he  loved  me — " 

"I  know,"  Callistion  said.  "All  women  know. 
Ah,  we  know  many  things — " 

She  reached  with  her  free  arm  across  the  body 
of  Diophantus  and  presently  dropped  a  stone  into 
the  pool.  She  said: 

"See  how  the  water  ripples.  There  is  now  not 
any  reflection  of  my  poor  face  or  of  your  beauty. 
All  is  as  wavering  as  a  man's  heart.  .  .  .  And  now 
your  beauty  is  regathering  like  coloured  mists.  Yet 
I  have  other  stones." 

"Oh,  and  the  will  to  use  them!"  said  Dame 
Melicent. 

"For  this  bright  thieving  beauty  is  not  any  longer 
yours.  It  is  mine  now,  to  do  with  as  I  may  elect — 
as  yesterday  it  was  the  plaything  of  Demetrios.  .  .  . 
Why,  no!  I  think  I  shall  not  kill  you.  I  have 
at  hand  three  very  cunning  Cheylas — the  men  who 
carve  and  reshape  children  into  such  droll  mon- 
sters. They  cannot  change  your  eyes,  they  tell  me. 
That  is  a  pity,  but  I  can  have  one  plucked  out.  Then 


WOMEN  TALK  171 


I  shall  watch  my  Cheylas  as  they  widen  your  mouth 
from  ear  to  ear,  take  out  the  cartilage  from  your 
nose,  wither  your  hair  till  it  will  always  be  like 
rotted  hay,  and  turn  your  skin — which  is  like  velvet 
now — the  colour  of  baked  mud.  They  will  as  deftly 
strip  you  of  that  beauty  which  has  robbed  me  as 
I  pluck  up  this  blade  of  grass.  .  .  .  Oh,  they  will 
make  you  the  most  hideous  of  living  things,  they  as- 
sure me.  Otherwise,  as  they  agree,  I  shall  kill  them. 
This  done,  you  may  go  freely  to  your  lover.  I  fear, 
though,  lest  you  may  not  love  him  as  I  loved 
Demetrios." 

And  Melicent  said  nothing. 

"For  all  we  women  know,  my  sister,  our  ap- 
pointed curse.  To  love  the  man,  and  to  know  the 
man  loves  just  the  lips  and  eyes  Youth  lends  to 
us — oho,  for  such  a  little  while!  Yes,  it  is  cruel. 
And  therefore  we  are  cruel — always  in  thought  and, 
when  occasion  offers,  in  the  deed." 

And  Melicent  said  nothing.  For  of  that  mutual 
love  she  shared  with  Perion,  so  high  and  splendid 
that  it  made  of  grief  a  music,  and  wrung  a  new 
sustainment  out  of  every  cross,  as  men  get  cordials 
of  bitter  herbs,  she  knew  there  was  no  comprehen- 
sion here. 


26. 

How  Men  Ordered  Matters 


ORESTES  came  into  the  garden  with  Ahasue- 
rus  and  nine  other  attendants.    The  master 
of  Nacumera  did  not  speak  a  syllable  while 
his  retainers  seized  Callistion,  gagged  her,  and  tied 
her  hands  with  cords.    They  silently  removed  her. 
One  among  them  bore  on  his  shoulders  the  slim 
corpse  of  Diophantus,  which  was  interred  the  same 
afternoon   (with  every  appropriate  ceremony)   in 
company  with  that  of  his  father.    Orestes  had  the 
nicest  sense  of  etiquette. 

This  series  of  swift  deeds  was  performed  with 
such  a  glib  precipitancy  that  it  was  as  though  the 
action  had  been  rehearsed  a  score  of  times.  The 
garden  was  all  drowsy  peace  now  that  Orestes 
spread  his  palms  in  a  gesture  of  deprecation.  A 
little  distance  from  him,  Ahasuerus  with  his  fore- 
finger drew  upon  the  water's  surface  designs  which 
appeared  to  amuse  the  Jew. 

172 


MEN  ORDER  MATTERS  173 

"She  would  have  killed  you,  Melicent,"  Orestes 
said,  "though  all  Olympos  had  marshalled  in  in- 
terdiction. That  would  have  been  irreligious. 
Moreover,  by  Hercules !  I  have  not  time  to  choose 
sides  between  snarling  women.  He  who  hunts  with 
cats  will  catch  mice.  I  aim  more  highly.  And 
besides,  by  an  incredible  forced  march,  this  Comte 
de  la  Foret  and  all  his  Free  Companions  are  bat- 
tering at  the  gates  of  Nacumera — " 

Hope  blazed.  "You  know  that  were  I  harmed 
he  would  spare  no  one.  Your  troops  are  all  at 
Calonak.  Oh,  God  is  very  good !"  said  Melicent. 

"I  do  not  asperse  the  deities  of  any  nation.  It  is 
unlucky.  None  the  less,  your  desires  outpace  your 
reason.  Grant  that  I  had  not  more  than  fifty  men 
to  defend  the  garrison,  yet  Nacumera  is  impreg- 
nable except  by  starvation.  We  can  sit  snug  a 
month.  Meanwhile  our  main  force  is  at  Calonak, 
undoubtedly.  Yet  my  infatuated  father  had  al- 
ready recalled  these  troops,  in  order  that  they  might 
escort  you  into  Messire  de  la  Foret's  camp.  Now 
I  shall  use  these  knaves  quite  otherwise.  They  will 
arrive  within  two  days,  and  to  the  rear  of  Messire 
de  la  Foret,  who  is  encamped  before  an  impreg- 
nable fortress.  To  the  front  unscalable  walls,  and 
behind  him,  at  a  moderate  computation,  three  swords 


174  DOMNEI 


to  his  one.  All  this  in  a  valley  from  which  Daedalos 
might  possibly  escape,  but  certainly  no  other  man. 
I  count  this  Perion  of  the  Forest  as  already  dead." 

It  was  a  lumbering  Orestes  who  proclaimed  each 
step  in  his  enchained  deductions  by  the  descent  of 
a  blunt  forefinger  upon  the  palm  of  his  left  hand. 
Demetrios  had  left  a  son  but  not  an  heir. 

Yet  the  chain  held.  Melicent  tested  every  link 
and  found  each  obdurate.  She  foresaw  it  all.  Pe- 
rion would  be  surrounded  and  overpowered.  "And 
these  troops  come  from  Calonak  because  of  me !" 

"Things  fall  about  with  an  odd  patness,  as  you 
say.  It  should  teach  you  not  to  talk  about  divini- 
ties lightly.  Also,  by  this  Jew's  advice,  I  mean 
to  further  the  gods'  indisputable  work.  You  will 
appear  upon  the  walls  of  Nacumera  at  dawn  to- 
morrow, in  such  a  garb  as  you  wore  in  your  native 
country  when  the  Comte  de  la  Foret  first  saw  you. 
Ahasuerus  estimates  this  Perion  will  not  readily 
leave  pursuit  of  you  in  that  event,  whatever  his 
lieutenants  urge,  for  you  are  very  beautiful." 

Melicent  cried  aloud,  "A  bitter  curse  this  beauty 
has  been  to  me,  and  to  all  men  who  have  desired 
it." 

"But  I  do  not  desire  it,"  said  Orestes.  "Else 
I  would  not  have  sold  it  to  Ahasuerus.  I  desire 


MEN  ORDER  MATTERS  175 

only  the  governorship  of  some  province  on  the 
frontier  where  I  may  fight  daily  with  stalwart  adver- 
saries, and  ride  past  the  homes  of  conquered  per- 
sons who  hate  me.  Ahasuerus  here  assures  me 
that  the  Emperor  will  not  deny  me  such  employ- 
ment when  I  bring  him  the  head  of  Messire  de  la 
Foret.  The  raids  of  Messire  de  la  Foret  have  irre- 
ligiously annoyed  our  Emperor  for  a  long  while." 

She  muttered,  "Thou  that  once  wore  a  woman's 
body— !" 

" — And  I  take  Ahasuerus  to  be  shrewd  in  all 
respects  save  one.  For  he  desires  trivialities.  A 
wise  man  knows  that  women  are  the  sauce  and  not 
the  meat  of  life;  Ahasuerus,  therefore,  is  not  wise. 
And  in  consequence  I  do  not  lack  a  handsome  bribe 
for  this  Bathyllos  whom  our  good  Emperor — mis- 
guided man! — is  weak  enough  to  love;  my  mother 
goes  in  chains ;  and  I  shall  get  my  province." 

Here  Orestes  laughed.  And  then  the  master  of 
Nacumera  left  Dame  Melicent  alone  with  Ahasuerus. 


27- 

Ho<w  Ahasuerus  Was  Candid 


WHEN  Orestes  had  gone,  the  Jew  remained 
unmoved.     He  continued   to   dabble  his 
finger-tips  in  the  water  as  one  who  medi- 
tates.    Presently  he  dried  them  on  either  sleeve  so 
that  he  seemed  to  embrace  himself. 

Said  he,  "What  instruments  we  use  at  need !" 
She  said,  "So  you  have  purchased  me,  Ahasue- 
rus?" 

"Yes,  for  a  hundred  and  two  minae.  That  is  a 
great  sum.  You  are  not  as  the  run  of  women, 
though.  I  think  you  are  worth  it." 

She  did  not  speak.  The  sun  shone,  and  birds 
chaunted  merrily  to  the  right  hand  and  to  the  left. 
She  was  considering  the  beauty  of  these  gardens 
which  seemed  to  sleep  under  a  dome  of  hard,  pol- 
ished blue — the  beauty  of  this  cloistered  Nacumera, 
wherein  so  many  infamies  writhed  and  contended 
like  a  nest  of  little  serpents. 

176 


THE  JEW  IS  CANDID  177 

"Do  you  remember,  Melicent,  that  night  at  Fomor 
Beach  when  you  snatched  a  lantern  from  my  hand? 
Your  hand  touched  my  hand,  Melicent." 

She  answered,  "I  remember." 

"I  first  of  all  saw  that  it  was  a  woman  who  was 
aiding  Perion  to  escape.  I  considered  Perion  a 
lucky  man,  for  I  had  seen  the  woman's  face." 

She  remained  silent. 

"I  thought  of  this  woman  very  often.  I  thought 
of  her  even  more  frequently  after  I  had  talked  with 
her  at  Bellegarde,  telling  of  Perion's  captivity.  .  .  . 
Melicent,"  the  Jew  said,  "I  make  no  songs,  no  pro- 
testations, no  phrases.  My  deeds  must  speak  for 
me.  Concede  that  I  have  laboured  tirelessly."  He 
paused,  his  gaze  lifted,  and  his  lips  smiled.  His 
eyes  stayed  mirthless.  "This  mad  Callistion's  hate 
of  you,  and  of  the  Demetrios  who  had  abandoned 
her,  was  my  first  stepping-stone.  By  my  advice  a 
tiny  wire  was  fastened  very  tightly  around  the  fet- 
lock of  a  certain  horse,  between  the  foot  and  the 
heel,  and  the  hair  was  smoothed  over  this  wire. 
Demetrios  rode  that  horse  in  his  last  battle.  It 
stumbled,  and  our  terrible  proconsul  was  thus 
brought  to  death.  Callistion  managed  it.  Thus  I 
betrayed  Demetrios." 

Melicent  said,  "You  are  too  foul  for  hell  to  swal- 


178  DOMNEI 

low."  And  Ahasuerus  manifested  indifference  to 
this  imputed  fault. 

"Thus  far  I  had  gone  hand-in-hand  with  an  in- 
sane Callistion.  Now  our  ways  parted.  She  desired 
only  to  be  avenged  on  you,  and  very  crudely.  That 
did  not  accord  with  my  plan.  I  fell  to  bargaining. 
I  purchased  with — O  rarity  of  rarities ! — a  little  ra- 
tional advice  and  much  gold  as  well.  Thus  in  due 
season  I  betrayed  Callistion.  Well,  who  forbids 
it?" 

She  said: 

"God  is  asleep.  Therefore  you  live,  and  I — alas! 
— must  live  for  a  while  longer." 

"Yes,  you  must  live  for  a  while  longer — oh,  and 
I,  too,  must  live  for  a  while  longer!"  the  Jew  re- 
turned. His  voice  had  risen  in  a  curious  quavering 
wail.  It  was  the  first  time  Melicent  ever  knew 
him  to  display  any  emotion. 

But  the  mood  passed,  and  he  said  only: 

"Who  forbids  it?  In  any  event,  there  is  a  ven- 
erable adage  concerning  the  buttering  of  parsnips. 
So  I  content  myself  with  asking  you  to  remember 
that  I  have  not  ever  faltered.  I  shall  not  falter 
now.  You  loathe  me.  Who  forbids  it?  I  have 
known  from  the  first  that  you  detested  me,  and  I 
have  always  considered  your  verdict  to  err  upon 


THE  JEW  IS  CANDID  179 

the  side  of  charity.     Believe  me,  you  will  never 
loathe  Ahasuerus  as  I  do.    And  yet  I  coddle  this 
poor  knave  sometimes — oh,  as  I  do  to-day !"  he  said. 
And  thus  they  parted. 


28. 

How  Perlon  Saw  Mellcent 


THE  manner  of  the  torment  of  Melicent  was 
this :  A  little  before  dawn  she  was  conducted 
by  Ahasuerus  and  Orestes  to  the  outermost 
turrets  of  Nacumera,  which  were  now  beginning  to 
take  form  and  colour.  Very  suddenly  a  flash  of 
light  had  flooded  the  valley,  the  big  crimson  sun 
was  instantaneously  apparent  as  though  he  had 
leaped  over  the  bleeding  night-mists.  Darkness  and 
all  night's  adherents  were  annihilated.  Pelicans  and 
geese  and  curlews  were  in  uproar,  as  at  a  concerted 
signal.  A  buzzard  yelped  thrice  like  a  dog,  and 
rose  in  a  long  spiral  from  the  cliff  to  Melicent's  right 
hand.  He  hung  motionless,  a  speck  in  the  clear 
zenith,  uncannily  anticipative.  Warmth  flooded  the 
valley. 

Now  Melicent  could  see  the  long  and  narrow 
plain  beneath  her.  It  was  overgrown  with  a  tall 
coarse  grass  which,  rippling  in  the  dawn-wind,  re- 

180 


WHAT  PERION  SEES  181 

sembled  moving  waters  from  this  distance,  save 
where  clumps  of  palm  trees  showed  like  islands. 
Farther  off,  the  tents  of  the  Free  Companions  were 
as  the  white,  sharp  teeth  of  a  lion.  Also  she  could 
see — and  did  not  recognise — the  helmet-covered  head 
of  Perion  catch  and  reflect  the  sunrays  dazzlingly, 
where  he  knelt  in  the  shimmering  grass  just  out  of 
bowshot. 

Now  Perion  could  see  a  woman  standing,  in  the 
new-born  sunlight,  under  many  gaily  coloured  ban- 
ners. The  maiden  was  attired  in  a  robe  of  white 
silk,  and  about  her  wrists  were  heavy  bands  of  silver. 
Her  hair  blazed  in  the  light,  bright  as  the  sun- 
flower glows;  her  skin  was  whiter  than  milk;  the 
down  of  a  fledgling  bird  was  not  more  grateful  to 
the  touch  than  were  her  hands.  There  was  never 
anywhere  a  person  more  delightful  to  gaze  upon, 
and  whosoever  beheld  her  forthwith  desired  to  ren- 
der love  and  service  to  Dame  Melicent.  This  much 
could  Perion  know,  whose  fond  eyes  did  not  really 
see  the  woman  upon  the  battlements  but,  instead, 
young  Melicent  as  young  Perion  had  first  beheld 
her  walking  by  the  sea  at  Bellegarde. 

Thus  Perion,  who  knelt  in  adoration  of  that  list- 
less girl,  all  white  and  silver,  and  gold,  too,  where 
her  blown  hair  showed  like  a  halo.  Desirable  and 


182  DOMNEI 


lovelier  than  words  may  express  seemed  Melicent 
to  Perion  as  she  stood  thus  in  lonely  exaltation,  and 
behind  her,  glorious  banners  fluttered,  and  the  blue 
sky  took  on  a  deeper  colour.  What  Perion  saw  was 
like  a  church  window  when  the  sun  shines  through 
it.  Ahasuerus  perfectly  understood  the  baiting  of  a 
trap. 

Perion  came  into  the  open  plain  before  the  castle 
and  called  on  her  dear  name  three  times.  Then 
Perion,  naked  to  his  enemies,  and  at  the  disposal 
of  the  first  pagan  archer  that  chose  to  shoot  him 
down,  sang  cheerily  the  waking-song  which  Meli- 
cent had  heard  a  mimic  Amphitryon  make  in  Dame 
Alcmena's  honour,  very  long  ago,  when  people 
laughed  and  Melicent  was  young  and  ignorant  of 
misery. 

Sang  Perion,  "Rei  glorias,  verais  turns  e  clar- 
dats — "  or,  in  other  wording : 

"Thou  King  of  glory,  veritable  light,  all-powerful 
deity !  be  pleased  to  succour  faithfully  my  fair,  sweet 
friend.  The  night  that  severed  us  has  been  long 
and  bitter,  the  darkness  has  been  shaken  by  bleak 
winds,  but  now  the  dawn  is  near  at  hand. 

"My  fair  sweet  friend,  be  of  good  heart!  We 
have  been  tormented  long  enough  by  evil  dreams. 
Be  of  good  heart,  for  the  dawn  is  approaching !  The 


WHAT  PERION  SEES  183 

east  is  astir.  I  have  seen  the  orient  star  which  her- 
alds day.  I  discern  it  clearly,  for  now  the  dawn 
is  near  at  hand." 

The  song  was  no  great  matter;  but  the  splendid 
futility  of  its  performance  amid  such  touch-and-go 
surroundings  Melicent  considered  to  be  august. 
And  consciousness  of  his  words'  poverty,  as  Perion 
thus  lightly  played  with  death  in  order  to  accord 
due  honour  to  the  lady  he  served,  was  to  Dame  Meli- 
cent in  her  high  martyrdom  as  is  the  twist  of  a 
dagger  in  an  already  fatal  wound;  and  made  her 
love  augment. 

Sang  Perion: 

"My  fair  sweet  friend,  it  is  I,  your  servitor,  who 
cry  to  you,  Be  of  good  heart!  Regard  the  sky  and 
the  stars  now  growing  dim,  and  you  will  see  that 
I  have  been  an  untiring  sentinel.  It  will  presently 
fare  the  worse  for  those  who  do  not  recognise  that 
the  dawn  is  near  at  hand. 

"My  fair  sweet  friend,  since  you  were  taken 
from  me  I  have  not  ever  been  of  a  divided  mind. 
I  have  kept  faith,  I  have  not  failed  you.  Hourly  I 
have  entreated  God  and  the  Son  of  Mary  to  have 
compassion  upon  our  evil  dreams.  And  now  the 
dawn  is  near  at  hand." 

"My  poor,  bruised,  puzzled  boy,"  thought  Meli- 


184  ijOMNEI 

cent,  as  she  had  done  so  long  ago,  "how  came  you 
to  be  blundering  about  this  miry  world  of  ours? 
And  how  may  I  be  worthy?" 

Orestes  spoke.  His  voice  disturbed  the  woman's 
rapture  thinly,  like  the  speech  of  a  ghost,  and  she 
remembered  now  that  a  bustling  world  was  her 
antagonist. 

"Assuredly,"  Orestes  said,  "this  man  is  insane.  I 
will  forthwith  command  my  archers  to  despatch  him 
in  the  middle  of  his  caterwauling.  For  at  this  dis- 
tance they  cannot  miss  him." 

But  Ahasuerus  said : 

"No,  seignior,  not  by  my  advice.  If  you  slay 
this  Perion  of  the  Forest,  his  retainers  will  speedily 
abandon  a  desperate  siege  and  retreat  to  the  coast. 
But  they  will  never  retreat  so  long  as  the  man  lives 
and  sways  them,  and  we  hold  Melicent,  for,  as  you 
plainly  see,  this  abominable  reprobate  is  quite  be- 
sotted with  love  of  her.  His  death  would  win  you 
praise;  but  the  destruction  of  his  armament  will 
purchase  you  your  province.  Now  in  two  days  at 
most  our  troops  will  come,  and  then  we  will  slay 
all  the  Free  Companions." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Orestes,  "and  it  is  remarkable 
how  you  think  of  these  things  so  quickly." 


WHAT  PERION  SEES  185 

So  Orestes  was  ruled  by  Ahasuerus,  and  Perion, 
through  no  merit  of  his  own,  departed  unharmed. 

Then  Melicent  was  conducted  to  her  own  apart- 
ments; and  eunuchs  guarded  her,  while  the  battle 
was,  and  men  she  had  not  ever  seen  died  by  the 
score  because  her  beauty  was  so  great. 


2Q. 

How  a  Bargain  Was  Cried 


NOW  about  sunset  Melicent  knelt  in  her  ora- 
tory and  laid  all  her  grief  before  the  Virgin, 
imploring  counsel. 

This  place  was  in  reality  a  chapel,  which  Deme- 
trios  had  builded  for  Melicent  in  exquisite  enjoy- 
ment. To  furnish  it  he  had  sacked  towns  she  never 
heard  of,  and  had  rifled  two  cathedrals,  because  the 
notion  that  the  wife  of  Demetrios  should  own  a 
Christian  chapel  appeared  to  him  amusing.  The 
Virgin,  a  masterpiece  of  Pietro  di  Vicenza,  Deme- 
trios had  purchased  by  the  interception  of  a  free 
dry's  navy.  It  was  a  painted  statue,  very  handsome. 

The  sunlight  shone  on  Melicent  through  a  richly 
coloured  window  wherein  were  shown  the  sufferings 
of  Christ  and  the  two  thieves.  This  siftage  made 
about  her  a  welter  of  glowing  and  intermingling 
colours,  above  which  her  head  shone  with  a  clear 

halo. 

186 


A  BARGAIN  IS  CRIED  187 

This  much  Ahasuerus  noted.     He  said: 

"You  offer  tears  to  Miriam  of  Nazara.  Yonder 
they  are  sacrificing  a  bull  to  Mithras.  But  I  do 
not  make  either  offering  or  prayer  to  any  god.  Yet 
of  all  persons  in  Nacumera  I  alone  am  sure  of  this 
day's  outcome."  Thus  spoke  the  Jew  Ahasuerus. 

The  woman  stood  erect  now.  She  asked,  "What 
of  the  day,  Ahasuerus  ?" 

"It  has  been  much  like  other  days  that  I  have 
seen.  The  sun  rose  without  any  perturbation.  And 
now  it  sinks  as  usual.  Oh,  true,  there  has  been 
fighting.  The  sky  has  been  clouded  with  arrows, 
and  horses,  nicer  than  their  masters,  have  screamed 
because  these  soulless  beasts  were  appalled  by  so 
much  blood.  Many  women  have  become  widows, 
and  divers  children  are  made  orphans,  because  of 
two  huge  eyes  they  never  saw.  Puf !  it  is  an  old 
tale." 

She  said,  "Is  Perion  hurt?" 

"Is  the  dog  hurt  that  has  driven  a  cat  into  a 
tree  ?  Such  I  estimate  to  be  the  position  of  Orestes 
and  Perion.  Ah,  no,  this  Perion  who  was  my  cap- 
tain once  is  as  yet  a  lord  without  any  peer  in  the 
fields  where  men  contend  in  battle.  But  love  has 
thrust  him  into  a  bag's  end,  and  his  fate  is  cer- 
tain." 


188  DOMNEI 

She  spoke  her  steadfast  resolution.  "And  my 
fate,  too.  For  when  Perion  is  trapped  and  slain  I 
mean  to  kill  myself." 

"I  am  aware  of  that,"  he  said.  "Oh,  women  have 
these  notions!  Yet  when  the  hour  came,  I  think, 
you  would  not  dare.  For  I  know  your  beliefs  con- 
cerning hell's  geography,  and  which  particular  gulf 
of  hell  is  reserved  for  all  self-murderers." 

Then  Melicent  waited  for  a  while.  She  spoke 
later  without  any  apparent  emotion.  "And  how 
should  I  fear  hell  who  crave  a  bitterer  fate !  Listen, 
Ahasuerus!  I  know  that  you  desire  me  as  a  play- 
thing very  greatly.  The  infamy  in  which  you  wade 
attests  as  much.  Yet  you  have  schemed  to  no  pur- 
pose if  Perion  dies,  because  the  ways  of  death  are 
always  open.  I  would  die  many  times  rather  than 
endure  the  touch  of  your  finger.  Ahasuerus,  I  have 
not  any  words  wherewith  to  tell  you  of  my  loath- 
ing—" 

"Turn  then  to  bargaining,"  he  said,  and  seemed 
aware  of  all  her  thoughts. 

"Oh,  to  a. hideous  bargain.  Let  Perion  be  warned 
of  those  troops  that  will  to-morrow  outflank  him. 
Let  him  escape.  There  is  yet  time.  Do  this,  dark 
hungry  man,  and  I  will  live."  She  shuddered  here. 
"Yes,  I  will  live  and  be  obedient  in  all  things  to 


A  BARGAIN  IS  CRIED  189 

you,  my  purchaser,  until  you  shall  have  wearied 
of  me,  or,  at  the  least,  until  God  has  remembered." 

His  careful  eyes  were  narrowed.  "You  would 
bribe  me  as  you  once  bribed  Demetrios?  And  to 
the  same  purpose?  I  think  that  fate  excels  less  in 
invention  than  in  cruelty." 

She  bitterly  said,  "Heaven  help  me,  and  what 
other  wares  have  I  to  vend !" 

He  answered: 

"None.  No  woman  has  in  this  black  age;  and 
therefore  comfort  you,  my  girl." 

She  hurried  on.  "Therefore  anew  I  offer  Meli- 
cent,  who  was  a  princess  once.  I  cry  a  price  for 
red  lips  and  bright  eyes  and  a  fair  woman's  tender 
body  without  any  blemish.  I  have  no  longer  youth 
and  happiness  and  honour  to  afford  you  as  your 
toys.  These  three  have  long  been  strangers  to  me. 
Oh,  very  long !  Yet  all  I  have  I  offer  for  one  charit- 
able deed.  See  now  how  near  you  are  to  victory. 
Think  now  how  gloriously  one  honest  act  would 
show  in  you  who  have  betrayed  each  overlord  you 
ever  served." 

He  said: 

"I  am  suspicious  of  strange  paths,  I  shrink  from 
practising  unfamiliar  virtues.  My  plan  is  fixed.  I 
think  I  shall  not  alter  it." 


190  DOMNEI 

"Ah,  no,  Ahasuerus !  think  instead  how  beautiful 
I  am.  There  is  no  comelier  animal  in  all  this  big 
lewd  world.  Indeed  I  cannot  count  how  many  men 
have  died  because  I  am  a  comely  animal — "  She 
smiled  as  one  who  is  too  tired  to  weep.  "That, 
too,  is  an  old  tale.  Now  I  abate  in  value,  it  appears, 
very  lamentably.  For  I  am  purchasable  now  just 
by  one  honest  deed,  and  there  is  none  who  will  bar- 
ter with  me." 

He  returned: 

"You  forget  that  a  freed  Perion  would  always 
have  a  sonorous  word  or  two  to  say  in  regard  to 
your  bargainings.  Demetrios  bargained,  you  may 
remember.  Demetrios  was  a  dread  lord.  It  cost 
him  daily  warfare  to  retain  you.  Now  I  lack  swords 
and  castles — I  who  dare  love  you  much  as  Deme- 
trios did — and  I  would  be  able  to  retain  neither 
Melicent  nor  tranquil  existence  for  an  unconscion- 
able while.  Ah,  no!  I  bear  my  former  general  no 
grudge.  I  merely  recognise  that  while  Perion  lives 
he  will  not  ever  leave  pursuit  of  you.  I  would  read- 
ily concede  the  potency  of  his  spurs,  even  were 
there  need  to  look  on  you  a  second  time —  It  hap- 
pens that  there  is  no  need!  Meanwhile  I  am  a 
quiet  man,  and  I  abhor  dissension.  For  the  rest, 


A  BARGAIN  IS  CRIED  191 

I  do  not  think  that  you  will  kill  yourself,  and  so 
I  think  I  shall  not  alter  my  fixed  plan." 

He  left  her,  and  Melicent  prayed  no  more.  To 
what  end,  she  reflected,  need  she  pray,  when  there 
was  no  hope  for  Perion? 


30. 

How  Melicent  Conquered 


INTO  Melicent's  bedroom,  about  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  came  Ahasuerus  the  Jew.    She  sat 
erect  in  bed  and  saw  him  cowering  over  a  lamp 
which  his  long  glistening  fingers  shielded,  so  that 
the  lean  face  of  the  man  floated  upon  a  little  golden 
pool  in  the  darkness.     She  marvelled  that  this  de- 
testable countenance  had  not  aged  at  all  since  her 
first  sight  of  it. 
He  smoothly  said : 

"Now  let  us  talk.     I  have  loved  you  for  some 
while,  fair  Melicent." 

"You  have  desired  me,"  she  replied. 
"Faith,  I  am  but  as  all  men,  whatever  their  age. 
Why,  what  the  devil !  man  may  have  Javeh's  breath 
in  him,  but  even  Scripture  proves  that  man  was 
made  of  clay."  The  Jew  now  puffed  out  his  jaws 
as  if  in  recollection.  "You  are  a  handsome  piece  of 
flesh,  I  thought  when  I  came  to  you  at  Bellegarde, 

192 


MELICENT  CONQUERS  193 

telling  of  Perion's  captivity.  I  thought  no  more 
than  this,  because  in  my  time  I  have  seen  a  greater 
number  of  handsome  women  than  you  would  sup- 
pose. Thereafter,  on  account  of  an  odd  reason 
which  I  had,  I  served  Demetrios  willingly  enough. 
This  son  of  Miramon  Lluagor  was  able  to  pay  me 
well,  in  a  curious  coinage.  So  I  arranged  the  bung- 
ling snare  Demetrios  proposed — too  gross,  I  thought 
it,  to  trap  any  woman  living.  Ohe,  and  why  should 
I  not  lay  an  open  and  frank  springe  for  you  ?  Who 
else  was  a  king's  bride-to-be,  young,  beautiful,  and 
blessed  with  wealth  and  honour  and  every  other 
comfort  which  the  world  affords?"  Now  the  Jew 
made  as  if  to  fling  away  a  robe  from  his  gaunt 
person.  "And  you  cast  this,  all  this,  aside  as  noth- 
ing. I  saw  it  done." 

"Ah,  but  I  did  it  to  save  Perion,"  she  wisely 
said. 

"Unfathomable  liar,"  he  returned,  "you  boldly 
and  unscrupulously  bought  of  life  the  thing  which 
you  most  earnestly  desired.  Nor  Solomon  nor  Pe- 
riander  has  won  more.  And  thus  I  saw  that  which 
no  other  man  has  seen.  I  saw  the  shrewd  and  daunt- 
less soul  of  Melicent.  And  so  I  loved  you,  and  I 
laid  my  plan — " 

She  said,  "You  do  not  know  of  love — " 


194  DOMNEI 

"Yet  I  have  builded  him  a  temple,"  the  Jew  con- 
sidered. He  continued,  with  that  old  abhorrent 
acquiescence:  "Now,  a  temple  is  admirable,  but  it 
is  not  builded  until  many  labourers  have  dug  and 
toiled  waist-deep  in  dirt.  Here,  too,  such  spatter- 
ment  seemed  necessary.  So  I  played,  in  fine,  I  played 
a  cunning  music.  The  pride  of  Demetrios,  the  jeal- 
ousy of  Callistion,  and  the  greed  of  Orestes — these 
were  as  so  many  stops  of  that  flute  on  which 
I  played  a  cunning  deadly  music.  Who  forbids 
it?"  ' 

She  motioned  him,  "Go  on."  Now  she  was  not 
afraid. 

"Come  then  to  the  last  note  of  my  music!  You 
offer  to  bargain,  saying,  Save  Perion  and  have  my 
body  as  your  chattel.  I  answer  Click!  The  turn- 
ing of  a  key  solves  all.  Accordingly  I  have  be- 
trayed the  castle  of  Nacumera,  I  have  this  night 
admitted  Perion  and  his  broad-shouldered  men. 
They  are  killing  Orestes  yonder  in  the  Court  of 
Stars  even  while  I  talk  with  you."  Ahasuerus 
laughed  noiselessly.  "Such  vanity  does  not  become 
a  Jew,  but  I  needs  must  do  the  thing  with  some 
magnificence.  Therefore  I  do  not  give  Sire  Perion 
only  his  life.  I  give  him  also  victory  and  much 


MELICENT  CONQUERS  195 

throat-cutting  and  an  impregnable  rich  castle.  Have 
I  not  paid  the  price,  fair  Melicent?  Have  I  not 
won  God's  masterpiece  through  a  small  wire,  a 
purse,  and  a  big  key?" 

She  answered,  "You  have  paid." 

He  said : 

"You  will  hold  to  your  bargain?  Ah,  you  have 
but  to  cry  aloud,  and  you  are  rid  of  me.  For  this 
is  Perion's  castle." 

She  said,  "Christ  help  me!  You  have  paid  my 
price." 

Now  the  Jew  raised  his  two  hands  in  very  hor- 
rible mirth.  Said  he: 

"Oh,  I  am  almost  tempted  to  praise  Javeh,  who 
created  the  invincible  soul  of  Melicent.  For  you 
have  conquered:  you  have  gained,  as  always,  and 
at  whatever  price,  exactly  that  which  you  most  de- 
sired, and  you  do  not  greatly  care  about  anything 
else.  So,  because  of  a  word  said  you  would  arise 
and  follow  me  on  my  dark  ways  if  I  commanded 
it.  You  will  not  weight  the  dice,  not  even  at  this 
pinch,  when  it  would  be  so  easy!  For  Perion  is 
safe;  and  nothing  matters  in  comparison  with  that, 
and  you  will  not  break  faith,  not  even  with  me. 
You  are  inexplicable,  you  are  stupid,  and  you  are 


196  DOMNEI 

resistless.  Again  I  see  my  Melicent,  who  is  not 
just  a  pair  of  purple  eyes  and  so  much  lovely  flesh." 

His  face  was  as  she  had  not  ever  known  it  now, 
and  very  tender.  Ahasuerus  said: 

"My  way  to  victory  is  plain  enough.  And  yet 
there  is  an  obstacle.  For  my  fancy  is  taken  by  the 
soul  of  Melicent,  and  not  by  that  handsome  piece 
of  flesh  which  all  men — even  Perion,  madame! — 
have  loved  so  long  with  remarkable  infatuation. 
Accordingly  I  had  not  ever  designed  that  the  edifice 
on  which  I  laboured  should  be  the  stable  of  my  lusts. 
Accordingly  I  played  my  cunning  music — and  ac- 
cordingly I  give  you  Perion.  I  that  am  Ahasuerus 
win  for  you  all  which  righteousness  and  honour 
could  not  win.  At  the  last  it  is  I  who  give  you 
Perion,  and  it  is  I  who  bring  you  to  his  embrace. 
He  must  still  be  about  his  magnanimous  butchery, 
I  think,  in  the  Court  of  Stars." 

Ahasuerus  knelt,  kissing  her  hand. 

"Fair  Melicent,  such  abominable  persons  as  De- 
metrios  and  I  are  fatally  alike.  We  may  deny,  de- 
ride, deplore,  or  even  hate,  the  sanctity  of  any  noble 
lady  accordingly  as  we  elect;  but  there  is  for  us  no 
possible  escape  from  worshipping  it.  Your  wind- 
fed  Perions,  who  will  not  ever  acknowledge  what 
sort  of  world  we  live  in,  are  less  quick  to  recognise 


MELICENT  CONQUERS  197 

the  soul  of  Melicent.  Such  is  our  sorry  consolation. 
Oh,  you  do  not  believe  me  yet.  You  will  believe 
in  the  oncoming  years.  Meanwhile,  O  all-enduring 
and  all-conquering!  go  now  to  your  last  labour;  and 
— if  my  Brother  dare  concede  as  much— do  you 
now  conquer  Perion." 

Then  he  vanished.    She  never  saw  him  any  more. 

She  lifted  the  Jew's  lamp.  She  bore  it  through 
the  Women's  Garden,  wherein  were  many  discom- 
fortable  shadows  and  no  living  being.  She  came  to 
its  outer  entrance.  Men  were  fighting  there.  She 
skirted  a  hideous  conflict,  and  descended  the  Queen's 
Stairway,  which  led  (as  you  have  heard)  toward  the 
balcony  about  the  Court  of  Stars.  She  found  this 
balcony  vacant. 

Below  her  men  were  fighting.  To  the  farther 
end  of  the  court  Orestes  sprawled  upon  the  red  and 
yellow  slabs — which  now  for  the  most  part  were 
red — and  above  him  towered  Perion  of  the  Forest. 
The  conqueror  had  paused  to  cleanse  his  sword  upon 
the  same  divan  Demetrios  had  occupied  when  Meli- 
cent first  saw  the  proconsul;  and  as  Perion  turned, 
in  the  act  of  sheathing  his  sword,  he  perceived  the 
dear  familiar  denizen  of  all  his  dreams.  A  tiny  lamp 
glowed  in  her  hand  quite  steadily. 


198  DOMNEI 

"O  Melicent,"  said  Perion,  with  a  great  voice, 
"my  task  is  done.  Come  now  to  me." 

She  instantly  obeyed  whose  only  joy  was  to 
please  Perion.  Descending  the  enclosed  stairway, 
she  thought  how  like  its  gloom  was  to  the  tem- 
poral unhappiness  she  had  passed  through  in  serv- 
ing Perion. 

He  stood  a  dripping  statue,  for  he  had  fought 
horribly.  She  came  to  him,  picking  her  way  among 
the  slain.  He  trembled  who  was  fresh  from  slay- 
ing. A  flood  of  torchlight  surged  and  swirled  about 
them,  and  within  a  stone's  cast  Perion's  men  were 
despatching  the  wounded. 

These  two  stood  face  to  face  and  did  not  speak 
at  all. 

I  think  that  he  knew  disappointment  first.  He 
looked  to  find  the  girl  whom  he  had  left  on  Fomor 
Beach. 

He  found  a  woman,  the  possessor  still  of  a  com- 
pelling beauty.  Oh,  yes,  past  doubt :  but  this  woman 
was  a  stranger  to  him,  as  he  now  knew  with  an 
odd  sense  of  sickness.  Thus,  then,  had  ended  the 
quest  of  Melicent.  Their  love  had  flouted  Time 
and  Fate.  These  had  revenged  this  insolence,  it 


MELICENT  CONQUERS  199 

seemed  to  Perion,  by  an  ironical  conversion  of  each 
rebel  into  another  person.  For  this  was  not  the 
girl  whom  Perion  had  loved  in  far  red-roofed  Poic- 
tesme;  this  was  not  the  girl  for  whom  Perion  had 
fought  ten  minutes  since:  and  he — as  Perion  for 
the  first  time  perceived — was  not  and  never  could 
be  any  more  the  Perion  that  girl  had  bidden  return 
to  her.  It  were  as  easy  to  evoke  the  Perion  who 
had  loved  Melusine.  .  .  . 

Then  Perion  perceived  that  love  may  be  a  power 
so  august  as  to  bedwarf  consideration  of  the  man 
and  woman  whom  it  sways.  He  saw  that  this  is 
reasonable.  I  cannot  justify  this  knowledge.  I 
cannot  even  tell  you  just  what  great  secret  it  was  of 
which  Perion  became  aware.  Many  men  have  seen 
the  sunrise,  but  the  serenity  and  awe  and  sweetness 
of  this  daily  miracle,  the  huge  assurance  which  it 
emanates  that  the  beholder  is  both  impotent  and 
greatly  beloved,  is  not  entirely  an  affair  of  the 
sky's  tincture.  And  thus  it  was  with  Perion.  He 
knew  what  he  could  not  explain.  He  knew  such 
joy  and  terror  as  none  has  ever  worded.  A  curtain 
had  lifted  briefly;  and  the  familiar  world  which 
Perion  knew,  for  the  brief  instant,  had  appeared  to 
be  a  painting  upon  that  curtain. 


200  DOMNEI 


Now,  dazzled,  he  saw  Melicent  for  the  first 
time.  .  .  . 

I  think  he  saw  the  lines  already  forming  in  her 
face,  and  knew  that,  but  for  him,  this  woman,  naked 
now  of  gear  and  friends,  had  been  to-night  a 
queen  among  her  own  acclaiming  people.  I  think 
he  worshipped  where  he  did  not  dare  to  love,  as 
every  man  cannot  but  do  when  starkly  fronted  by 
the  divine  and  stupendous  unreason  of  a  woman's 
choice,  among  so  many  other  men,  of  him.  And 
yet,  I  think  that  Perion  recalled  what  Ayrart  de 
Montors  had  said  of  women  and  their  love,  so  long 
ago: — "They  are  more  wise  than  we;  and  always 
they  make  us  better  by  indomitably  believing  we 
are  better  than  in  reality  a  man  can  ever  be." 

I  think  that  Perion  knew,  now,  de  Montors  had 
been  in  the  right.  The  pity  and  mystery  and  beauty 
of  that  world  wherein  High  God  had — scornfully? 
— placed  a  smug  Perion,  seemed  to  the  Comte  de 
la  Foret,  I  think,  unbearable.  I  think  a  new  and 
finer  love  smote  Perion  as  a  sword  strikes. 

I  think  he  did  not  speak  because  there  was  no 
scope  for  words.  I  know  that  he  knelt  (incurious 
for  once  of  victory)  before  this  stranger  who  was 
not  the  Melicent  whom  he  had  sought  so  long,  and 


MELICENT  CONQUERS  201 

that  all  consideration  of  a  lost  young  Melicent  de- 
parted from  him,  as  mists  leave  our  world  when 
the  sun  rises. 

I  think  that  this  was  her  high  hour  of  triumph. 

CJETERA  DESUNT 


THE  AFTERWORD 

These  lives  made  out  of  loves  that  long  since  were 
Lives  wrought  as  ours  of  earth  and  burning  air, 
Was  such  not  theirs,  the  twain  I  take,  and  give 
Out  of  my  life  to  make  their  dead  life  live 
Some  days  of  mine,  and  blow  my  living  breath 
Between  dead  lips  forgotten  even  of  death? 
So  many  and  many  of  old  have  given  my  twain 
Love  and  live  song  and  honey-hearted  pain. 


THE  AFTERWORD 


THUS,  rather  suddenly,  ends  our  knowledge  of 
the  love-business  between  Perion  and  Meli- 
cent.  For  at  this  point,  as  abruptly  as  it  be- 
gan, the  one  existing  chronicle  of  their  adventures 
makes  conclusion,  like  a  bit  of  interrupted  music, 
and  thereby  affords  conjecture  no  inconsiderable 
bounds  wherein  to  exercise  itself.  Yet,  in  view  of 
the  fact  that  deductions  as  to  what  befell  these 
lovers  afterward  can  at  best  result  in  free-handed 
theorising,  it  seems  more  profitable  in  this  place 
to  speak  very  briefly  of  the  fragmentary  Roman  de 
Lusignan,  since  the  history  of  Melicent  and  Perion 
as  set  forth  in  this  book  makes  no  pretensions  to 
be  more  than  a  rendering  into  English  of  this  manu- 
script, with  slight  additions  from  the  earliest  known 
printed  version  of  1546. 


M.  Verville,   in  his  monograph  on  Nicolas   de 
205 


206  DOMNEI 


Caen,1  considers  it  probable  that  the  Roman  de 
Lusignan  was  printed  in  Bruges  by  Colard  Mansion 
at  about  the  same  time  Mansion  published  the  Dizain 
des  Reines.  This  is  possible;  but  until  a  copy  of 
the  book  is  discovered,  our  sole  authority  for  the 
romance  must  continue  to  be  the  fragmentary  MS. 
No.  503  in  the  Allonbian  Collection. 

Among  the  innumerable  manuscripts  in  the  Brit- 
ish Museum  there  is  perhaps  none  which  opens  a 
wider  field  for  guesswork.  In  its  entirety  the  Ro- 
man de  Lusignan  was,  if  appearances  are  to  be 
trusted,  a  leisured  and  ambitious  handling  of  the 
Melusina  legend ;  but  in  the  preserved  portion  Melu- 
sina  figures  hardly  at  all.  We  have  merely  the  final 
chapters  of  what  would  seem  to  have  been  the  first 
half,  or  perhaps  the  first  third,  of  the  complete 
narrative;  so  that  this  manuscript  account  of  Melu- 
sina's  beguilements  breaks  off,  fantastically,  at  a 
period  by  many  years  anterior  to  a  date  which  those 
better  known  versions  of  Jean  d'Arras  and  Inur- 
ing von  Ringoltingen  select  as  the  only  appropriate 
starting-point. 

By  means  of  a  few  elisions,  however,  the  epi- 
sodic story  of  Melicent  and  of  the  men  who  loved 

1Paul  Verville,  Notice  sur  la  vie  de  Nicolas  de  Caen,  p.  112 
(Rouen,  1911). 


THE  AFTERWORD  207 

Melicent  has  been  disembedded  from  what  survives 
of  the  main  narrative.  This  episode  may  reasonably 
be  considered  as  complete  in  itself,  in  spite  of  its 
precipitous  commencement;  we  are  not  told  any- 
thing very  definite  concerning  Perion's  earlier  rela- 
tions with  Melusina,  it  is  true,  but  then  they  are 
hardly  of  any  especial  importance.  And  specula- 
tions as  to  the  tale's  perplexing  chronology,  or  as 
to  the  curious  treatment  of  the  Ahasuerus  legend, 
wherein  Nicolas  so  strikingly  differs  from  his  pre- 
cursors, Matthew  Paris  and  Philippe  Mouskes,  or 
as  to  the  probable  course  of  latter  incidents  in  the 
romance  (which  must  almost  inevitably  have  reached 
its  climax  in  the  foundation  of  the  house  of  Lusig- 
nan  by  Perion's  son  Raymondin  and  Melusina)  are 
more  profitably  left  to  M.  Verville's  ingenuity. 

3 

One  feature,  though,  of  this  romance  demands 
particular  comment.  The  happenings  of  the  Meli- 
cent-episode  pivot  remarkably  upon  domnei — upon 
chivalric  love,  upon  the  Frowenrfienst  of  the 
minnesingers,  or  upon  "woman-worship,"  as  we 
might  bunglingly  translate  a  word  for  which  in 
English  there  is  no  precisely  equivalent  synonym. 
^Therefore  this  English  version  of  the  Melicent- 


208  DOMNEI 

episode  has  been  called  Domnei,  at  whatever  price 
of  unintelligibility. 

For  there  is  'really  no  other  word  or  combination 
of  words  which  seems  quite  to  sum  up,  or  even  indi- 
cate this  precise  attitude  toward  life.  Domnei  was 
less  a  preference  for  one  especial  woman  than  a 
code  of  philosophy.  "The  complication  of  opinions 
and  ideas,  of  affections  and  habits,"  writes  Charles 
Claude  Fauriel,1  "which  prompted  the  chevalier  to 
devote  himself  to  the  service  of  a  lady,  and  by  which 
he  strove  to  prove  to  her  his  love  and  to  merit  hers 
in  return,  was  expressed  by  the  single  word  domnei." 

And  this,  of  course,  is  true  enough.  Yet  domnei 
was  even  more  than  a  complication  of  opinions  and 
affections  and  habits:  it  was  also  a  malady  and  a 
religion  quite  incommunicably  blended. 

Thus  you  will  find  that  Dante — to  cite  only  the 
most  readily  accessible  of  mediaeval  amorists — en- 
larges as  to  domnei  in  both  these  last-named  aspects 
impartially.  Domnei  suspends  all  his  senses  save 
that  of  sight,  makes  him  turn  pale,  causes  tremors 
in  his  left  side,  and  sends  him  to  bed  "like  a  little 
beaten  child,  in  tears";  throughout  you  have  the 
manifestations  of  domnei  described  in  terms  befit- 

1  Histoire  de  la  litterature  provenfale,  p.  330  ( Adler's  trans- 
lation, New  York,  1860). 


THE  AFTERWORD  209 

ting  the  symptoms  of  a  physical  disease:  but  as 
concerns  the  other  aspect,  Dante  never  wearies  of 
reiterating  that  it  is  domnei  which  has  turned  his 
thoughts  toward  God;  and  with  terrible  sincerity 
he  beholds  in  Beatrice  de'  Bardi  the  highest  illumina- 
tion which  Divine  Grace  may  permit  to  humankind. 
"This  is  no  woman;  rather  it  is  one  of  heaven's 
most  radiant  angels,"  he  says  with  terrible  sin- 
cerity. 

With  terrible  sincerity,  let  it  be  repeated :  for  the 
service  of  domnei  was  never,  as  some  would  affect  to 
interpret  it,  a  modish  and  ordered  affectation;  the 
histories  of  Peire  de  Maenzac,  of  Guillaume  de  Cai- 
bestaing,  of  Geoffrey  Rudel,  of  Ulrich  von  Liech- 
tenstein, of  the  Monk  of  Pucibot,  of  Pons  de  Cap- 
dueilh,  and  even  of  Peire  Vidal  and  Guillaume  de 
Balaun,  survive  to  prove  it  was  a  serious  thing,  a 
stark  and  life-disposing  reality.  En  cor  gentil 
domnei  per  mort  no  passa,  as  Nicolas  himself  de- 
clares. The  service  of  domnei  involved,  it  in  fact 
invited,  anguish;  it  was  a  martyrdom  whereby  the 
lover  was  uplifted  to  saintship  and  the  lady  to  little 
less  than,  if  anything  less  than,  godhead. 

For  it  was  a  canon  of  domnei,  it  was  the  very 
essence  of  domnei,  that  the  woman  one  loves  is 
providentially  set  between  her  lover's  apprehension 


210  DOMNEI 

and  God,  as  the  mobile  and  vital  image  and  cor- 
poreal reminder  of  heaven,  as  a  quick  symbol  of 
beauty  and  holiness,  of  purity  and  perfection.  In 
her  the  lover  views — embodied,  apparent  to  human 
sense,  and  even  accessible  to  human  enterprise — all 
qualities  of  God  which  can  be  comprehended  by 
merely  human  faculties.  It  is  precisely  as  such  an 
intermediary  that*  Melicent  figures  toward  Perion, 
and,  in  a  somewhat  different  degree,  toward  Ahasue- 
rus — since  Ahasuerus  is  of  necessity  apart  in  all 
things  from  the  run  of  humanity. 

Yet  instances  were  not  lacking  in  the  service  of 
domnei  where  worship  of  the  symbol  developed  into 
a  religion  sufficing  in  itself,  and  became  competitor 
with  worship  of  what  the  symbol  primarily  repre- 
sented— such  instances  as  have  their  analogues  in 
the  legend  of  Ritter  Tannhauser,  or  in  Aucassin's 
resolve  in  the  romance  to  go  down  into  hell  with 
"his  sweet  mistress  whom  he  so  much  loves,"  or 
(here  perhaps  most  perfectly  exampled)  in  Arnaud 
de  Merveil's  naive  declaration  that  whatever  portion 
of  his  heart  belongs  to  God  heaven  holds  in  vassa- 
lage to  Adelaide  de  Beziers.  It  is  upon  this  darker 
and  rebellious  side  of  domnei,  of  a  religion  pathet- 
ically dragged  dustward  by  the  luxuriance  and  ef- 


THE  AFTERWORD  211 

florescence  of  over-passionate  service,  that  Nicolas 
has  touched  in  depicting  Demetrios. 


Nicolas  de  Caen,  himself  the  servitor  par 
amours  of  Isabella  of  Burgundy,  has  elsewhere  writ- 
ten of  domnei  (in  his  Le  Roi  Amaury)  in  terms 
such  as  it  may  not  be  entirely  out  of  place  to  tran- 
scribe here.  Baalzebub,  as  you  may  remember,  has 
been  discomfited  in  his  endeavours  to  ensnare  King 
Amaury  and  is  withdrawing  in  disgust. 

"A  pest  upon  this  domnei!"  x  the  fiend  growls. 
"Nay,  the  match  is  at  an  end,  and  I  may  speak  in 
perfect  candour  now.  I  swear  to  you  that,  given 
a  man  clear-eyed  enough  to  see  that  a  woman  by 
ordinary  is  nourished  much  as  he  is  nourished,  and 
is  subjected  to  every  bodily  infirmity  which  he  en- 
dures and  frets  beneath,  I  do  not  often  bungle  mat- 
ters. But  when  a  fool  begins  to  flounder  about 
the  world,  dead-drunk  with  adoration  of  an  im- 
maculate woman — a  monster  which,  as  even  the 
man's  own  judgment  assures  him,  does  not  exist 
and  never  will  exist — why,  he  becomes  as  unman- 

1  Quoted  with  minor  alterations  from  Watson's  version. 


212  DOMNEI 


ageable  as  any  other  maniac  when  a  frenzy  is  upon 
him.  For  then  the  idiot  hungers  after  a  life  so 
high-pitched  that  his  gross  faculties  may  not  so 
much  as  glimpse  it;  he  is  so  rapt  with  impossible 
dreams  that  he  becomes  oblivious  to  the  nudgings 
of  his  most  petted  vice ;  and  he  abhors  his  own  innate 
and  perfectly  natural  inclination  to  cowardice,  and 
filth,  and  self-deception.  He,  in  fine,  affords  me  and 
all  other  rational  people  no  available  handle;  and, 
in  consequence,  he  very  often  flounders  beyond  the 
reach  of  my  whisperings.  There  may  be  other  per- 
sons who  can  inform  you  why  such  blatant  folly 
should  thus  be  the  master-word  of  evil,  but  for 
my  own  part,  I  confess  to  ignorance." 

"Nay,  that  folly,  as  you  term  it,  and  as  hell  will 
always  term  it,  is  alike  the  riddle  and  the  master- 
word  of  the  universe,"  the  old  king  replies.  .  .  . 

And  Nicolas  whole-heartedly  believed  that  this 
was  true.  We  do  not  believe  this,  quite,  but  it  may 
be  that  we  are  none  the  happier  for  our  dubiety. 

EXPLICIT 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

I.  LES  AMANTS  DE  MELICENT,  Traduction  mod- 
erne,  annotee  et  procedee  d'un  notice  his- 
torique  sur  Nicolas  de  Caen,  par  1'Abbe 
*  *  *  A  Paris.  Pour  laques  Keruer  aux 
deux  Cochetz,  Rue  S.  laques,  M.  D.  XLVI. 
Avec  Privilege  du  Roy.  The  somewhat 
abridged  reprint  of  1788  was  believed  to  be 
the  first  version  printed  in  French,  until 
the  discovery  of  this  unique  volume  in 
1917. 

II.  ARMAGEDDON  ;  or  the  Great  Day  of  the  Lord's 
Judgement :  a  Parcenesis  to  Prince  Henry — 
MELICENT;  an  heroicke  poeme  intended, 
drawne  from  French  bookes,  the  First 
Booke,  by  Sir  William  Allonby.  London. 
Printed  for  Nathaniel  Butler,  dwelling  at 
the  Pied  Bull,  at  Saint  Austen's  Gate.  1626. 

III.  PERION  UND  MELICENT,  zum  erstenmale  aus 

dem  Franzosischen  ins  Deutsche  ubersetzt, 
von  J.  H.  G.  Lowe.  Stuttgart  und  Tubin- 
gen, 1823. 

IV.  Los  NEGOCIANTES  DO  DON  PERION,  publicado 

por    Plancher-Seignot.     Rio    de    Janiero, 
215 


216  DOMNEI 


1827.    The  translator's  name  is  not  given. 
The  preface  is  signed  R.  L. 

V.  LA  DONNA  DI  DEMETRIO,  Historia  piacevole  e 
morale,  da  Antonio  Checino.  Milan,  1833. 

VI.  PRINDSESSES  MELICENT,  oversat  af  Le  Roman 
de  Lusignan,  og  udgivna  paa  Dansk  vid 
R.  Knos.  Copenhagen,  1840. 

VII.  ANTIQUE  FABUL^E  ET  COMEDI^E,  edid.  G. 
Rask.  Gottingen,  1852.  Vol.  II,  p.  61  et 
seq.  "DE  FIDE  MELICENTIS" — an  abridged 
version  of  the  romance. 

VIII.  PERION  EN  MELICENT,  voor  de  Nederlandsche 
Jeugduiitgegeven  door  J.  M.  L.  Wolters. 
Groningen,  1862. 

IX.  NOUVELLES  FRANCOISES  EN  PROSE  DU  XIVE 
ET  DE  XVE  SIECLE,  Les  textes  anciens, 
edites  et  annotes  par  MM.  Armin  et  Mo- 
land.  Lyons,  1880.  Vol.  IV,  p.  89  et  seq., 
"LE  ROMAN  DE  LA  BELLE  MELICENT" — a 
much  condensed  form  of  the  story. 

X.  THE  SOUL  OF  MELICENT,  by  James  Branch 
Cabell.  Illustrated  in  colour  by  Howard 
Pyle.  New  York,  1913.  This  rendering 
was  made,  of  course,  before  the  discovery 
of  the  1546  version,  and  so  had  not  the  ben- 
efit of  that  volume's  interesting  variants 
from  the  abridgment  of  1788. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


217 


XL 

XII. 
XIII. 
XIV. 


CINQ  BALLADES  DE  NICOLAS  DE  CAEN,  tra- 
duites  en  verse  du  Roman  de  Lusignan, 
par  Mme.  Adolphe  Galland,  et  mises  en 
musique  par  Raoul  Bidoche.  Paris,  1898. 

LE  LIURE  DE  MELUSINE  en  fracoys,  par  Jean 
d'Arras.  Geneva,  1478. 

HlSTORIA  DE  LA  LINDA  MELOSYNA.  Tolosa, 
1489. 


EEN  SAN  SONDERLINGKE  SCHONE  ENDE  WON- 

DERLIKE  HISTORIE,  die  men  warachtich  kout 
te  syne  ende  autentick  sprekende  van  eenre 
vrouwen  gheheeten  Melusine.  Tantwer- 
pen,  1500. 

XV.   DIE  HISTORI  ODER  GESCHICHT  VON  DER  EDLE 
UND  SCHONEN  MELUSiNA.   Augsburg,  1547. 

XVI.  L'HISTOIRE  DE  MELUSINE,  fille  du  roy  d'Al- 
banie  et  de  dame  Pressine,  revue  et  mise 
en  meilleur  langage  que  par  cy  devant. 
Lyons,  1597. 

XVII.  LE  ROMAN  DE  MELUSINE,  princesse  de  Lusig- 
nan, avec  1'histoire  de  Geoffry,  surnomme 
a  la  Grand  Dent,  par  Nodot.  Paris,  1700. 

XVIII.    KRONYKE   KRATOCHWILNE,   o   ctne   a   slech 
netne  Panne  Meluzijne.     Prag,  1760. 

XIX.     WUNDERBARE    GESCHICHTE    VON    DER    EDELN 

UND    SCHONEN    MELUSINA,    welche    eine 


218  DOMNEI 


Tochter  des  Konig  Helmus  und  ein  Meer- 
wunder  gewesen  ist.  Nurnberg,  without 
date:  reprinted  in  Marbach'?  VOLKS- 
BUCHER,  Leipzig,  1838. 


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